Trials and Tribulations
by macattack102712
Summary: Mac faces one of the hardest journeys of her life. But will she walk it alone or will she let those around her run the marathon with her?
1. Out of Sorts, Out of Place

Title: Trials and Tribulations

Chapter One: Out of Sorts, Out of Place

Author: Macattack102712, aka MacMackenzie

Publish Date: August 2018

Disclaimer: JAG doesn't belong to me. Never has, never will. If it did, Mac and Harm would have shacked up a looooong time ago!

Summary: Mac faces one of the hardest journeys of her life. But will she walk it alone or will she let those around her run the marathon with her?

Authors Notes:

This story takes place in S7. Everything is presented in MT (Military Time), with EST the marker.

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0630

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown, VA

Mac stretched her lithe frame languorously beneath the sheets, yawning widely. The early morning sun spilled thru the sheer curtains hanging over the bay window, casting her bedroom in a soft hue of pink. A frown crossed her face; a storm was certainly among the items on Mother Nature's menu that day. With chagrin, she recalled one of her grandmother's infamous phrases she used regarding the weather:

'_Red sky at morning, sailors take warning. Red Sky at night, sailor's delight'. _

And, if the colors of the sky were an indicator, an angry storm was most certainly brewing on the horizon.

Her face scrunched in confusion when she felt something hard pressed against her back. Sifting through the bedcovers, her hand settled on a wide object. It was Tom Clancy's latest novel, still open to the page she'd been reading the previous evening.

'_Oh right, my book. I must've fallen asleep reading'_.

She regarded the bookmarked chapter with regret. She had spent the evening intent on finishing chapter five, but obviously, her body had held other plans. It was an intriguing read, for sure, but based upon her recent case assignment, she wouldn't have the opportunity to finish it any time soon.

'Look on the bright side, Mackenzie. At least you got a decent night's sleep'.

She couldn't argue there. For the first time in what seemed like weeks, she had managed to escape the relentless, controlling grip of insomnia. The year had been a rough one, with Harm's plane crash, and her engagement and impending wedding to Mic crumbling to dust just hours before they were supposed to say, 'I do'. While she had loved Mic and cared for him very much (he was a good man, after all), she was not _in love_ with him, and there was a startling difference between the two. Having to come to terms with this after vehemently denying it for months was a bitter pill to swallow. Mic's departure was bittersweet in that it left her hurting for a man that willingly offered everything she wanted. Yet, her heart yearned for the one man who held it captive but was unwilling to offer her the very things that Mic did.

After Harm's recovery from his unceremonious dunk in the ocean, his return to JAG took her longer to come to terms with; not because he didn't belong there, he did; but because _she _no longer knew where _they _belonged. She had taken the position on the Guadalcanal in a desperate attempt to screw her head back on straight after the previous weeks sent it whirling off its axis. And she was doing fine…until he arrived unannounced on the ship. His unexpected presence thrust her back into the outer bands of the atmosphere that seemed intent on suffocating her. She was tired of running, hiding, and denying. Hell, she was just plain exhausted; world weary and heart heavy. When she pressed his back to the wall to get an honest answer of just what he was willing to give up _to have her_, she held a sliver of hope that maybe, _just maybe_, he was willing to let go and let her in.

But he wasn't. And she couldn't take the rejection. Her heart had been repeatedly raked over the coals, and she just didn't have the strength to heal it anymore. So, it was with this knowledge that she walked out of her quarters, surmising, albeit incorrectly, that he wasn't interested in her like _that, _just merely a friend he feared losing to the unwritten confines of marriage. Little did she know, the answer she had been waiting on for so long tumbled out into the expanse of the cramped quarters, sans one important audience member. Her.

Following her return from the Guadalcanal assignment, both were uncertain in where they stood as friends and partners. But, like so many times before, they managed to get back into a familiar routine, shoving the past, as well as their emotions, under the rug while pretending they couldn't see the mountain rising before them. Mac was good at pretending all was fine. Hell, she'd spent her entire life living by the motto, "Fake it til you make it". And she did. She'd made it damn far with quite a bit to show for it. A solid career sprinkled with several successful combat deployments, medals and achievements, a plethora of friends, and respect among her peers. But the one thing she didn't have, _couldn't_ have (as far as she felt), was a family. With him. And the painful knowledge of this twisted in her gut like the morning glory vines that trailed the wrought iron fence outside her apartment complex.

"_Wake up Georgetown! It's the morning GROW Show, that's Georgetown Rock Out World! for you radio newbies, brought to you by none other than your commute crew, Ace and Dave. We're here to blast you out of bed and get you moving! We always like to start our show with a bang, so we're gonna aire some Norman Greenbaum with his song, 'Spirit in the Sky'. Stay tuned for our hourly traffic report, we'll be right back after a few moments with our local advertisements_!"

The radio's sudden announcement jolted her back to reality, and she reluctantly threw back the covers. Padding to the bathroom, she switched on the shower head to let the water heat up, then returned to her bedroom to retrieve her uniform. She had less than an hour to get bathed, dressed, and eat a bite of breakfast.

'_Better get moving, Mackenzie. Staff call in one hour and fifteen minutes and you don't want to start the morning out on a bad foot with the Admiral_!'.

That much was true. Ever since the Admiral's girlfriend, (well, now _ex_-girlfriend), had chosen to side with her narcotic son when he was busted for possession of drugs (in the Admiral's SUV, no less), AJ had grown unbearable to handle. Aside from the routine case delegation meeting on Monday mornings, the interaction with his staff was limited, at best. He seldom ventured out of his office, but when he did, he was always on the warpath, causing everyone in the bullpen to scurry for cover like gophers hiding from a bird of prey. Unfortunately, his target of choice as of late seemed to be Mac's office. It had become somewhat of a running joke amongst the staff to draw straws as to who would have to fill in as his assistant when Petty Officer Tiner was on leave or otherwise unavailable.

Mac showered in record time, her years spent in multiple combat deployments having made five-minute showers (complete with hair shampooing) an ingrained habit. Stepping out of the fiberglass tub, she quickly toweled off, reaching for the bottle of cocoa butter lotion on the countertop. Her skin was notorious for drying out, an after effect of having spent a significant part of her life under the dry heat and blue bird skies of Arizona and the Middle East. She slathered the cold product on her lower legs, methodically working it into her skin. She checked her internal clock: 0655. Mindful of the time, Mac realized she had exactly twenty minutes to finish dressing, blow dry her hair, and be out the door to stay ahead of rush-hour traffic. Satisfied with the now-buttery softness of her elbows and upper arms, she worked her way up her abdomen and over her ample chest, ensuring the product was rubbed in well.

And that's when she felt it.

Clearly out of place, _IT _didn't belong.

A puzzled expression crossed her face. She ran a hand over her left breast a second time.

'_Where did this come from?'_

She touched the lump carefully. It was hard, but surprisingly not painful. Working her mind back, Mac tried to recall her last breast exam.

'Wasn't it right before my last Fit-Rep?'

Her most recent memory was at the end of the summer, before her annual required physical for the Marine corps. And it most certainly wasn't there at that point.

'_It's probably just hormonal!'_. She tried to push the intruding thought away, her finger lingering on her heated skin. '_Don't get too worked up about it! _

She felt the lump again. It stayed relatively fixed, only moving slightly when she put any type of pressure on it.

Her internal clock 'beeped' again, reminding her of the time.

'_0700 Mackenzie, get moving_!'.

Her hand stayed over her left breast, unmoving, unwilling to let go. Tendrils of fear began to creep in the back of her mind. She was only 33; far too young to have…._that. _But….what if….

'_You can call to make an appt when you get to work, but if you don't get your six moving, the Admiral will chew you a new one_!'

She stood frozen in front of the mirror, a worried expression reflecting back at her.

_What if?_

"No girl, we're not going there, not today," she said aloud to reassure herself. Shaking her head, she picked up the hairdryer and thanks to her short cut, made quick work of drying her hair. Once done, she applied her usual minimal amount of makeup, then hurried to pull on her thigh-high hose.

Her cellphone dinged, alerting her to a new text message. Hopping on one foot while she worked to pull the nylon material over her left knee, she glanced at the screen: it was Harm.

Without second thought, she opened it, her pulse leaping when she noticed the sender.

'_Need to see you after the meeting and before court. Short notice, I know. Sorry! See ya in a bit Ninjagirl'_.

Intrigued, she typed out a quick response, followed by a winking smiley face: 'Of course, flyboy. Don't be late, the Admiral doesn't need more reason to be pissed off". She hit the 'send' button and scurried out the bathroom to slip into her underwear, uniform and standard-issued pumps.

Ten minutes later, she was squared away, coffee tumbler, purse, cover, and briefcase in hand. She took one last look in the mirror hanging above the table by the front door, completely unaware her world was about to get shoved off its axis.

0800

Conference Room

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

Admiral Chegwidden tore the conference room door open, his staff immediately coming to stand at attention per military protocol. He waved them down with an absentminded sweep of his arm. "At ease! Have a seat," he grumbled, dropping a thick stack of folders on the table. Everyone settled themselves in the overstuffed leather chairs, risking surreptitious glances at one another as their Commanding Officer removed several manila folders from the enormous pile. It was obvious that he had woken up on not one, but both wrong sides of the bed. With each passing week, they waited for his mood to improve, but the old adage "time heals all wounds" was turning out to be one dirty lie. As the year's end holiday season approached, it was the staff's hope that the festivities and overall air of cheeriness would begin to thaw out his heart. But they were barely a month out from Christmas, and he was no closer to recovering from his broken heart.

Barring any semblance of a morning greeting, he slid a folder to Sturgis. "Roberts, Turner, this just came in. Petty Officer Seth Crowe was arrested last night outside Bar Louie in McLean for possession of marijuana, disorderly conduct, and indecent exposure. Security cameras recorded him plastering his exposed rear-end against the front window of the bar for passers-by and patrons to see. Roberts you will defend, Turner will prosecute. Any objections?" He fixed them with a look that clearly meant objecting would not be in either of their best interest.

"No sir. Understood sir," both replied in unison.

Harm shot them both a look of sympathy, which did not go unnoticed by their C.O.

He narrowed his eyes at his junior officer. "You got a problem with my delegations, Rabb?"

"N-no, sir. No sir. None at all".

AJ regarded him for several long seconds. Harm began to sweat underneath his penetrating gaze. For sure, AJ had mastered the ability to make even the most experienced officer squirm under his intense gaze.

"Hmph. Good". He fished out another case and thumbed it down the table. "This one's yours, Lieutenant Singer. Seaman Jason Briggs, just relieved of the evening port watch, was arrested outside Pandora's Box last night for public intoxication and public nudity. There was a children's art exhibit being held one block over. Eyewitnesses say Briggs ran down the street naked, holding cans of shaving cream, screaming, and I quote," AJ pushed his glasses down to the end of his nose so as to see the print better, "My pecker is like a nuclear bomb…ready to explode at any moment with just the right touch". He removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Harm chortled while Sturgis attempted to suppress a laugh, which, despite his best efforts, sounded more like a dry heave.

"You gentleman find this funny?" He pierced them both with a look that would wither poison ivy.

Both adamantly shook their heads, barely able to contain the grins that threatened to cross their faces.

"Jesus fucking Christ, can the Navy not do any better than this?" AJ stared at his audience as though he expected them to have the answer. "Here we are, the world's strongest armed forces, a world super power, and we've got juveniles who can't keep their junk in their pants!".

"Looks like this is right up Singer's alley," Harm whispered under his breath to Sturgis, "he'll have his balls in a Mason jar by the time the case is over".

AJ tossed his glasses to the side, clearly annoyed. "Commander Rabb, do you have something you wish to share with the group?" He swept his hand to the opposite side of the table where Mac and Harriet sat, their eyebrows nearly kissing their hairline.

Harm shook his head emphatically. "No, sir".

"Keep your thoughts to yourself, then" He looked at his male officers. "And for the love of God, gentlemen, keep your damn peckers to yourself as well".

Nobody breathed a word, lest they bust out laughing.

"Colonel Mackenzie," he slid a folder to his right as Mac sat first chair. "Commander Mark Yawn has been charged with UA, possible desertion after he failed to report for a routine drug screening and security check. He has been missing for approximately 72 hours. ATM records show he withdrew a large sum of money an hour before his drug screening. Standard BOLO was put in place 24 hours following his AWOL report. Yawn's wife and two daughters have not heard from him since his last port stop one week ago. You will handle the investigation. I'm sending Lieutenant Simms to assist you".

Mac could barely contain her look of surprise at the news of Harriet joining her. It was rare for the Admiral to send his secretary out in the field. In fact, in the six years she'd been stationed at JAG, she'd never know him to send Harriet on an investigation. Nonetheless, Mac was grateful to have the help. Harriet had an incredible eye for detail and finding inconsistencies. For certain, she would be an invaluable asset.

AJ answered her unasked questions. "I know it's quite unorthodox for me to send Lieutenant Simms, but this one's a heavy hitter, Colonel, and I need as many eyes for detail as I can get. The port Yawn was last seen at is a known hot spot for illegal drug activity and arms smuggling. He's also the son of a four-star General, so it goes without saying: tread carefully and _watch your back_". He emphasized the last few words to get his point across.

Mac thumbed through the folder with a sense of trepidation. A case this big could be either good or bad for her career, especially since the circumstances surrounding it reeked of foul play and illegal activities. "Yes sir, understood sir". She looked at Harriet, a worried expression on her face. The younger officer had a child at home and just recently lost a baby. The last thing Mac wanted to do was rope her into a situation where things could turn dangerous without warning.

Harriet seemed to read her mind and verbally reached out to settle her concerns. "Don't worry, Colonel. I'll ensure I'm an asset and not a hindrance. And I know, thanks to Lieutenant Roberts," she gave a nod towards her husband, "how to take care of myself should things go south".

"It is my expectation that the situation will not escalate, but nevertheless, be careful, both of you". AJ pinned them both with a look mixed with fatherly concern and pride.

"Yes sir. I greatly appreciate the Lieutenant's help. We'll be fine". She smiled at Harriet, thankful to have someone to help keep a watch on her six.

"Good. Now, moving on to other business…" AJ's voice trailed off as the case assignments grew higher while the sun inched towards the apex of the sky.

1000

Mac's Office

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

Mac wedged the handset of her phone tighter between her ear and shoulder as she reached towards her desktop organizer for a pen. The moment AJ had concluded the meeting, she made a beeline for her office. Caught up in the concerns from her discovery that morning, not to mention the Admiral dropping the Yawn case in her lap, she completely forgot to stay behind for Harm's benefit. Several rings passed as she waited patiently for her physician's receptionist to answer. On the third ring, a cheery voice came over the phone.

"Buchanon Women's Clinic, this is Sasha, how may I help you?"

Mac swallowed the lump in her throat and anxiously twirled the pen in her hand.

"Um, yes, this is Sarah Mackenzie. I need to make an appointment for a breast exam, please". She took a deep breath to calm the nerves that threatened to push her heart right out of her chest.

'_Settle down Mackenzie. It's probably nothing. You're overreacting'_.

The sound of key types filtered across the line for a few moments before the receptionist spoke again. "Okay, Ms. Mackenzie, what is your date of birth and Social Security Number?"

Mac rattled off the information, absentmindedly doodling on her desktop calendar as she waited for Sasha to input the information.

"So, it looks like you were just here in August for your yearly appointment. You're saying you need a breast exam?"

Mac nodded. "Yes. I…I got out of the shower this morning, and as I was putting on lotion…I found a lump in my left breast". She let out the breath she didn't even realize she was holding. "I'm sure it's nothing, but I just want to make sure. For my own peace of mind".

"Certainly understandable, ma'am. I'm looking at what we have available. She is full until the end of the month. However, we take concerns for breast health very seriously. I know Dr. Buchanon will want to see you quickly. Would you be available for a short-notice appointment?

A knock sounded at the door, and Harm timidly poked his head around, seeking permission to enter. She waved him in. Seeing that she was occupied, he quietly took a seat in her guest chair. "Yes, I would be. Anything at this point, it doesn't matter".

Sasha scrolled thru the appointment log once more. "Oh wait! She has an opening this afternoon at 1630. I know it's late in the day, but would that be acceptable?"

"That works out perfectly. I'll take it"

"Okay, then we have you down for 1630. See you then, Ms. Mackenzie".

"Thanks so much". She settled the receiver back in the cradle as she scribbled the time down on her notepad. Unbeknownst to her, Harm took in her every move, carefully committing it to memory. He was mesmerized by the graceful way her fingers moved over the notepad, her delicate scrawl unreadable from where he sat. The sun had positioned itself just outside her window, and the soft rays of sunshine filtered through the blinds, highlighting the subtle hues of dark red in her mahogany brown hair. He lost count of how many times he had imagined his fingers running through the soft tendrils of her hair before moving on to gently caress her face. Her eyes, dark pools of chocolate brown would look up at him in wonder while he ran a gentle thumb over her lips, lowering his head to capt-

"Harm? Earth to Harm? HARM!?" Mac practically shouted, waving her hand in front of him to get his attention. The way he stared at her sent a pleasant shiver down her spine, but she had to push those thoughts aside and calm her racing heart. Besides, didn't he want to talk to her about something? She couldn't give him her undivided attention as to whatever was on his mind if _hers_ was wading knee-deep in treacherous waters.

"Oh! Uh….did you say something?" He stumbled over his words, willing the flush to stay from his cheeks. Upon closer inspection, he could've sworn he saw her eyes take on a different hue… the way she looked at him….

'_Must be the_ _sunlight hitting them in a different angle. That's all. No need to go imagining things, Rabb'_ his inner voice rationalized. He sent his unbridled thoughts scurrying back to the dark recesses of his mind.

She smiled with hesitant amusement. "I did. I was asking what you wanted to talk to me about."

"Huh?"

She held up her phone to jog his memory. "Your text this morning? You said you wanted to catch me before court". She eyed him curiously. "Everything ok?"

His countenance changed as realization crossed his face. "Oh! Yeah, yeah, everything's fine". He fidgeted in his seat, unwilling to bring up the subject of his upcoming quals. He dreaded talking to her about this, especially considering what had happened the last time. "Um…so…the six-month mark is here, and I'm due again".

Confused, Mac searched his face for answers. "Due for what?"

He stayed quiet, his mind studiously searching for a way to answer her question without bringing up the past. Which, of course, was impossible.

Understanding immediately dawned on her, and a flurry of emotions crossed her face before she was able to reign them in. "Oh". She nervously twisted the pencil in her hand. "Well, I know you will pass with flying colors," she bit her lip, "pun intended".

Harm let out a breath he didn't realize he'd been holding. "Pun taken". He leaned forward in his seat. "I leave out Wednesday. I'll be gone two days, maybe three. They've, um…tightened the regulations since my last set." He grinned sheepishly. "I think that might have something to do with me".

She returned his smile, although it didn't quite reach her eyes. Her stomach was already turning flips, and she forced down the lump in her throat. "I know you will do great. You're the best pilot the Navy's got, and they know it". Her voice was sincere, so full of admiration for the man she loved more than just a friend.

He felt the blush creep to his cheeks and glanced away self-consciously. "Thank you, Mac. That really means a lot to me".

A palatable silence fell over them, the soft ticking of the standard-issued clock the only sound in her office.

The knowledge of his upcoming quals made her sick to her stomach, and she wondered how many times he could tempt fate and come out on the winning end. For sure, she had so much to say to him, so much she wanted him to know. But her thoughts kept going back to his rejection on the Guadalcanal, and she knew she was just too vulnerable to broach that subject again. Not now. And maybe…not ever.

For Harm's part, he couldn't seem to tear his eyes away from her, and quite frankly, he didn't want to. The knowledge of his upcoming quals and what he put her thru the last time made him sick to his stomach, and he wondered how many times he could tempt fate and come out on the winning end. For sure, his last stint had nearly cost him his life, and her.

Tiner's voice suddenly came over the intercom, startling both out of the heated gaze they had trapped each other in.

"Ma'am, is Commander Rabb in your office?"

She punched the button. "Yes Tiner, he is".

"Um…the Admiral's been looking for him. He wants to see him ASAP".

She looked at him in sympathy. It was never a good sign for the Admiral to call you into his office.

With a grimace, Harm spoke aloud. "Tell him I'm on my way, Tiner. Thank you".

"Yes sir".

The intercom went dead, casting them in silence once more.

He leaned forward in his chair and rubbed his hands together. "I know we've both got busy schedules this week….and I may not see you the rest of today or tomorrow, but I won't leave for my quals without seeing you. That's a promise".

Mac nodded, refusing to let her mind wander to the last time he had done his quals and she had not wished him luck. It was a mistake that continued to haunt her each night. She had vowed that she would never do that again. "I'll hold you to it".

"I know you will". He smiled at her once more before exiting her office, leaving her alone with her thoughts.

'Appt 1630'.

She sighed heavily, forcing herself to return her attention back to her upcoming court hearing. Her thoughts were scattered all over the place: on Harm, his quals, her appointment, and what unknowns the future held for the two of them.

::END CHAPTER ONE::


	2. The Known and The Unknown

Title: Trials and Tribulations

Chapter Two: The Known and the Unknown

Author: Macattack102712, aka MacMackenzie

Disclaimer: JAG doesn't belong to me. Never has, never will. If it did, Mac and Harm would have shacked up a looooong time ago.

Publish Date: August 2018

Summary: Mac faces one of the hardest journeys of her life. But will she walk it alone or will she let those around her run the marathon with her?

Authors Notes:

See previous chapter

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1700 MT

Buchanon Women's Clinic

Falls Church, VA

Mac sat anxiously on the paper wrapped table, her legs swinging idly while she waited for Dr. Buchanon to enter. The thin paper crinkled under her movements, the noise echoing uncomfortably within the pristine walls. She could hear the cheerful physician's voice faintly beyond the closed door as she conversed with her assistant. Her eyes travelled over the numerous health flyers and posters that adorned the pale tan walls, educating patients on the anatomy of the female reproductive system and the plethora of disorders that affected each organ. Her heart dropped when her eyes settled on a particular poster.

_Breast Cancer Awareness_

She willed the lump in her throat to go away.

'Don't go there Mackenzie. You're borrowing trouble!'

_Right. Be positive. It will all be ok. _

But would it? She was so unsure

A gentle knock sounded on the door. "May I come in?" Dr. Buchanon's muffled voice filtered from the other side.

"Yes, ma'am, I'm ready".

Dr. Buchanon breezed in, dressed in lilac coloured scrubs, dark rimmed glasses, hair pulled back in a bushy wad, and as always, wearing her signature bright smile. "Good afternoon lil' mama! How's your world spinning these days? Is it spinning slow? Fast? Spinning like mine, off its axis?" She spoke over shoulder as she washed her hands, prepping for the exam.

Mac was put at ease by her sunny disposition, despite the heaviness of the unknown looming on the horizon. Laughing quietly, she replied, "I'm not sure. Some days I wonder what direction it's even spinning!"

Dr. Buchanon chuckled as she tossed the used papertowels in the garbage can, then pulled her stool up in front of the exam table. "Well that makes two of us! As my grandmother would say, 'I don't know whether I'm washing or hanging out!'" She patted Mac's knee as she reached for her medical file to review it. "Okay, so Sasha noted that you're coming in to see me because you are concerned about a lump in your left breast, correct?" She looked over her the rim of her eyeglasses for confirmation.

Mac nodded in affirmation, the icy hand of fear beginning to slip around her heart. "Yes. I got out of the shower this morning, and as I was putting lotion on, I noticed this lump. I…I don't know how long it's been there, but I do know it wasn't there three months ago when you did my physical for the corps". She sighed. "I wish I could give you a better timeline. Honestly, I've been so swamped lately I barely know whether I'm coming or going".

Dr. Buchanon grunted in understanding as she made a few notes in the file before setting it aside. "Despite what you may think, you have a better memory than most. And you are correct, I did not observe any abnormalities from your exam in September". She motioned at Mac's gown. "May I?"

Mac nodded, allowing her to open the gown and begin her exam. "It's not painful or anything. If I hadn't put on lotion this morning, I wonder if I would have ever noticed it at all".

Dr. Buchanon remained quiet as she carefully examined her, methodically feeling each side of the breast. The lump was irregular shaped and hard. That wasn't good. Her brow furrowed. "I know that we have you on an IUD, so I don't feel it's not related to your birth control." Stepping to Mac's right, she examined the other breast for comparison but did not feel anything abnormal. "Have you increased your caffeine intake lately? Any extra cups of coffee or soda?"

Mac shook her head in the negative. "No, just the usual cup in the morning, although I may have one in the evenings if I am working on a big case. I'm not a big soda drinker".

"Any chance you could be pregnant?"

Once again, Mac shook her head. "No. I haven't been with anyone since…" she bit back a sigh, remembering her last intimate encounter with Mic, which had been more stressful than pleasurable, "well…the past six months".

Dr. Buchanon noted the flash of regret that passed across her face but chose not to comment on it. Her answer, combined with the physical assessment and the fact that Mac mentioned no pain associated with it all but confirmed her suspicions. She felt the tissue with her other hand and gathered the same feedback. Satisfied, Dr. Buchanon pulled Mac's gown back closed and pressed the call button on her pager.

"Sasha, I need you to get Bethesda Imaging Center on the line immediately, please".

"Yes ma'am. Standby".

A pool of dread washed over Mac instantaneously, confirming her biggest fear. "I was afraid of this", she whispered, clenching her hands to keep them from trembling.

Dr. Buchanon gently framed Mac's face and pierced her with an intense but maternal look. "Now you listen to me young lady, and you listen well: this is just the beginning. We don't know anything definitive".

Mac held her gaze, willing herself not to cry.

Dr Buchanon kept her hold firm but gentle. "You've been a patient of mine for six years. When have I ever been less than truthful with you, Sarah?"

"Never. I trust you implicitly. It's just…I'm terrified," Mac's voice wavered as the tears slipped out unchecked.

"And you have every right to be. But _only_ after we've run tests and know what we are, or are not dealing with. No matter what, I'll be by your side every step of the way. I won't let you walk that path alone. You have my word".

"Dr Buchanon, BIC is on line one for you," Sasha announced over her pager.

She kept her gaze on Mac even as she reached to press the speaker button on the phone. "Thank you, Sasha, I've got it". She handed Mac some tissues and gave her a moment to compose herself. "Now, let's get you dressed. I can't have my best patient running out of here naked as a jaybird!" she chided, squeezing her hand once more before opening the door. "I'll be right outside when you get done".

Mac managed a small laugh as she slipped back into her uniform, feeling no semblance of the invincible Marine the olive-green cloth and Corps insignia represented. Her hand brushed over the stripes that indicated her previous combat deployments, and she felt that she'd much rather go up against an army of terrorists versus facing the unknown that loomed before her. At least in combat, she had others to help fight the enemy. With cancer, she had to fight alone, and this realization terrified her more than the many nights she'd spent in absolute fear as the enemy lurked all around her.

'_Semper Fidelis. Always faithful'_.

She glanced down at her half-buttoned shirt and unclasped bra. She ran a hand over her exposed breasts, realizing with a twinge of disgust:

Her body had failed her.

It was no longer faithful.

0900 MT

Wednesday

Mac's Office

JAG HQ

Falls Church. VA

Mac had stared at the file in her hand for what seemed like an hour, but she was unable to process what was in it. Her mind kept going back and repeating the discussion she had held with her team of physicians. The past twenty-four hours had been a whirlwind of medical terminology, procedure explanations, a list of what to expect, treatment regimen, and so many other things she couldn't yet wrap her head around. While everyone, especially Dr. Buchanon, had expressed confidence in a positive outcome, Mac couldn't fully banish the fear that wormed its way into her mind. She was told that she was one of the luckier ones: her cancer, since it had been caught so early, was treatable, and held a high success rate. But despite this, the terms 'radiation', 'reoccurrence', and 'mastectomy' were all that echoed in her ears.

A sharp rap on the door jarred her out of her thoughts. It was Harm.

'_Time to get it together, Marine,' _she lectured herself, taking a deep breath. He couldn't know about this. No. He just couldn't. Motioning him in with a wave of her hand, he entered her office with more than an edge of trepidation.

She gave him the best smile she could muster, hoping that none of her apprehension about her current medical situation bled thru. "Hey there, sailor. Getting ready to leave?"

He took a seat in the chair in front of her desk, thumping the file against his leg as he searched for the right words to say. It crushed him to know he was going to put her thru the wringer once again. He knew she dreaded his quals each time they came up, especially considering what happened the last time. But the more he thought about it, it seemed there was something else causing the subtle changes in her disposition. A feeling nagged at him in the back of his mind, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Since Monday, Mac had not seemed herself, but it had become even more apparent in the last 24 hours. "Hey, uh, you okay? You were really quiet in the morning conference".

On her end, she willed herself not to shed any tears in front of him. The last thing he needed was an emotional display from her to cloud his mind and distract him from his quals. Pushing back the lump that had risen in her throat, she simply stepped from behind her desk and opened her arms. He willingly enveloped her thin frame within his taller one, closing his eyes as he savored the feel of her in his arms. She rested her head against his shoulder for several seconds, comforting herself with the faint beat of his heart beneath her ear. The solid feel of him, the simple strength he presented, threatened to send the tears running down her cheeks. Instead, she stood on her tiptoes and placed a quick kiss on his cheek, chuckling quietly when she realized she'd left lipstick prints behind.

'What's so funny Marine?" he asked with a quiet grin, his voice dropping in tone as he felt her warm touch on his face.

Mac licked her thumb, then deftly wiped the smudge away. "I branded you by accident". She returned his smile with a wavering one of her own. "Please Harm, be careful. I can't…I can't go thru that again". No further words were needed; they both knew what she was referring to. Unbeknownst to the other, they had spent countless nights thinking of how close their lives were almost changed for the worse.

Harm nodded solemnly. "You have my word, Sarah".

Her heart fluttered at the use of her given name, and it took every ounce of self-control to keep from blurting out the truth, to beg him to stay. She searched his eyes for sincerity, and seeming to have found it, she squeezed his hands before dropping them and placing some distance between them. "You'd better get going. You've got an hour drive ahead and then your helo ride. Don't need you falling asleep at the job," she joked in an attempt to lighten the mood.

"Well, if I do, I know a good lawyer who will defend me. That is, if she's not too busy buying stock in Beltway Burgers". He returned the jab, but his eyes never left hers. Mindful of their coworkers' presence just beyond her office door, he resisted the urge to cup her cheek. "I'll be back, you know that, don't you?"

She nodded, swallowing thickly. "Yeah". She gave him a playful slap on his shoulder. "Now get outta here, you've got a plane to fly".

Harm came to mock attention in front of her. "Yes ma'am!" He gave her his signature flyboy grin before exiting her office. Her eyes followed him as he headed towards the elevators, watching as he waved in acknowledgement at Harriet and Gunny's well-wishes for success. Once inside the elevator, his gaze found hers. He flashed her another smile before the elevator doors closed, cutting them off.

1300 MT

Admiral Chegwidden's Office

JAG Headquarters

Falls Church, VA

AJ dropped the receiver with a disgusted sigh. Ten minutes on the phone with the SECNAV, in AJ's opinion, was ten minutes too long. Boy, if there ever was a burr in his sock, it was him. From the very beginning, he had never liked the guy, and as time progressed, his very name made his insides cringe with dread.

Tiner's voice broke through his thoughts. "Admiral, Colonel Mackenzie is here to meet with you".

The phone call having accelerated AJ into a bad mood, he looked at his calendar. He scowled. "I don't have a meeting scheduled with the Colonel, Petty Officer".

"Yes, sir," Tiner hesitated, and he glanced at Mac with sympathy, "the Colonel is aware of that. She would like a minute of your time, if you are available".

AJ sighed, rubbing a hand over the dull headache that throbbed at his temples.

'She'd better make it quick. I'm not in the mood to deal with anyone else's shit today'.

He testily punched the intercom button. "Send her in".

A moment later, his Chief of Staff entered the office, coming to attention in front of his desk. She remained quiet, waiting for permission to speak.

AJ eyed her with a thoughtful gaze. Since the staff meeting on Monday, something had seemed off with her. Normally, Mac was the cheery one of the group, happily greeting everyone with her bright smile and equally bright spirit. Oftentimes, she would bring a box of assorted donuts and coffee for everyone, a gesture of sorts to get the week started on a positive note. But the past staff conference, she had been unusually quiet and reserved. AJ chalked it up to Harm's pending quals, but as the week progressed, he began to get the nagging feeling it was more than just that.

Taking note in the hesitant way she held herself, AJ's demeanor softened a bit and he motioned her to take a seat. "You wanted to see me, Colonel?"

"Yes, sir." Mac fidgeted with her Marine Corps ring, spinning it around on her finger as she struggled with finding the right words to say. Her complexion was pale, and she looked tired, as though she had not slept in several days. He waited a few moments, giving her time to gather her thoughts.

"Um, sir. I'm…not really sure how to go about saying this," she hesitated, her voice faltering. "It's funny how I knew what I was going to say, but now that I'm here…." She trailed off, her eyes darting around the room.

With a sigh, AJ pinched the bridge of his nose before taking off his glasses. A feeling of dread began to develop in the pit of his stomach. Whatever it was, it wasn't good.

'I swear, if the Commander has said or done something stupid to her, I'll choke him myself'.

He reached over to punch the 'Do Not Disturb' button on his phone. "Go on, Colonel. I'm listening'.

Mac took a deep breath, begging her nerves to settle. "Sir, I have to step down from the Yawn investigation. I'm so sorry. I don't…I don't have a choice, sir".

AJ narrowed his eyes at her statement. "This is hardly the time to be requesting such a thing, Colonel. We're shorthanded as it is due to budget cuts. With Commander Rabb taking his quals, Lieutenant Singer handling the Briggs investigation, and Commander Mattoni aboard the _Iwo Jima_, I don't have the manpower to replace you on this case. This puts a strain on everyone".

Mac nodded, her gaze flitting across everything in the room except him. "I know, sir. I…". She stopped short, unsure of how to explain her situation.

AJ mentally reviewed the Yawn file, grasping for any reasons or indication as to why Mac would feel the need to stepdown. Unable to come up with any satisfactory suggestions, he decided to cut straight to business. "Care to tell me why? You've never asked to step down from an investigation".

"I know sir, and I'm sorry". She glanced away as she worked to gather her words. "Sir, I um…..found something the other day".

His brow knitted in confusion.

'_Found what_?'

His mind briefly revisited the day Harm had informed him of his intended trip to Russia to search for his father. AJ had been more than pissed at the last-minute request, in addition to the fact that Harm, whom he considered a surrogate son, was leaving on what appeared to be a wild-goose chase with no definitive plan nor means to take care of himself. However, it did not sound as though this was the same situation for his Chief-of-Staff, and he was a little more than perplexed.

At the look of confusion on her CO's face, Mac hurriedly went on to explain. "I…found a lump, sir".

'_A lump? What is she talking about it?' _ AJ was thoroughly confused.

"On my breast". Her face turned a slight shade of red at the reference to her anatomy.

The moment the last word fell from her mouth, AJ felt as though a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him. The sudden realization hit him like a ton of bricks. A lump could only mean one thing…

'_Christ, don't let it be that, anything but that!'_.

The last words came out in rush, scattering to hang heavily in the expanse between them. "They said…I….I have breast cancer, sir".

For his part, AJ was at a total loss of words. He opened and closed his mouth several times to speak, but found words failed him.

Rubbing her hands nervously, she risked a glance in his direction. As per typical Admiral style, his face was neutral of any expression, which made it difficult to gauge his reaction. "My oncologist says it has a high success rate if it's caught early and if it hasn't spread. I have to be at Bethesda Women's Surgery Center at 0600 tomorrow for an emergency mastectomy. The chances of reoccurrence in that breast is extremely high and they don't want me to take that chance. They won't let me wait, sir".

AJ felt like he'd been run over by a dump truck. He cleared his throat to dislodge the lump that had quickly formed. "Mac...I'm at a loss here".

Mac nodded mutely, mistakenly interpreting his reaction as displeasure from being down another lawyer. "I'm so sorry, sir. I will be at work on Monday morning if I can get my physician to agree to release me".

AJ gaped at her in disbelief. She couldn't be serious, could she? Like hell she was returning to work three days after major surgery! The very idea pissed him off!

"ON YOUR FEET, MARINE!"

She jumped to her feet, and he whirled from around his desk to face her.

His voice was deathly quiet as he spoke. "I do believe that's the most asinine statement that's come out of your mouth since...since…well, hell! I don't know when!". He crossed his arms, daring her to argue with her. "You are on medical leave effective immediately. And only when your physician feels, _AND I _feel, that you are ready to return to work will you be allowed to do so. Is that understood?"

Momentarily stunned by his outburst, Mac could only stare in shock.

AJ ignored the look on her face and continued. "Who will be taking you to the hospital and staying with you?".

Having found her voice, she replied, "I-I-I was going to call a cab to take me, sir. I'll be fine by myself".

He gave a sarcastic snort and shook his head in disbelief.

'_God give me the strength not to drop kick this woman's six into next week!' _

"You will do no such thing, Mac. I will accompany you to your surgery," he pinned her with a deadly look when she went to object, "it would not be wise of you to test my patience". He quickly punched his intercom. "Tiner, immediately cancel all of my appointments for the next two days".

Tiner hesitated. "Sir, you have a meeting with the SecNav tomorrow at 1100".

"Cancel it. If he has a problem with it, he can tell me when I call to reschedule. It won't be the first time I've pissed him off".

Tiner was quiet for a second before responding. "Yes sir, aye aye sir".

AJ disconnected the call and turned his attention back to Mac. "Preop at 0600 tomorrow. I'll pick you up at 0515. Make sure you list me as authorized recipient of medical information, especially since I will be staying with you".

"Yes sir". She paused, hesitating on voicing her request lest she invoke his wrath again. "Sir, respectfully, I'd like to ask you to keep this information between the two of us until Commander Rabb returns from his quals. He does not need to know".

AJ opened his mouth to argue, but Mac held up her hand. "Please sir, allow me to finish. There is nothing he would be able to do for me other than wait for the surgery to be over. If he knows about it beforehand, it could distract him or cloud his judgement. And I will never again be the cause of any danger to him. The night of my engagement party…." Her voice broke and she looked away, struggling to keep the tears from her eyes.

AJ's mind flashed back to the near-fatal night that had shaken them all to their very core. AJ had ordered Mic to go sit with the Roberts', leaving him to look for Mac. He had found her in the private prayer room at the church; he had been the only one to see just how much Harm's disappearance impacted her. Although his SEAL training had groomed him to have a tough exterior and a higher tolerance for tragedy than the average person, his heart had broken in two when she turned from her vigilance at the window. The look on her face was nothing but pure agony and despair, and it cut AJ to his very core. That night, Mac could no longer keep up her tough Marine façade. She collapsed into his arms, her anguished sobs and cries of self-blame ripping him from the inside out.

Mac's voice brought him back to the present. "If he postpones his quals, sir, he risks losing his wings forever. You know as well as I do, the Navy is looking for any reason to take them".

AJ could hardly be surprised at her request. Since the day he'd partnered them, they were always trying to protect one another. While her request did not settle well with him, he could not deny the fact she was right. He recalled the SecNav's less-than-legal-threat to take Harm's wings should he ever lose another aircraft in the drink. With a resigned sigh, he provided his acquiescence. "As much as I don't like it Mac, I have to agree with you. It will stay here," he gestured between them, "for now".

"Thank you, sir," she managed, not trusting herself to say anymore lest the dam on her emotions burst.

"Be ready to go at 0515. Dismissed".

She came to attention, then exited his office, leaving AJ's mind reeling at what had just transpired.

"Tiner!" he barked, "Come here! And shut the door".

Tiner immediately vacated his desk and entered AJ's office, shutting the door as requested.

AJ was quiet as he gathered his thoughts, the crackling of the fireplace the only sound in the room.

"Don't you breathe a word of this to anyone, is that understood?"

Tiner nodded stoically. "Yes, sir".

"Get a message to Admiral Morris that I am clearing Colonel Mackenzie's court docket indefinitely. I will be accompanying her to the Bethesda Women's Surgery Center tomorrow. And get me the contact information for the _Seahawk_. I want Commander Rabb on a helo back to port the MINUTE his quals are over and he is released, not one minute later. Dismissed".

Puzzled, but not daring to question his Commanding Officer, Tiner took his orders and came to sharp attention, turning on his heel before quickly exiting the office.

"And get me another bottle of aspirin! I'm going to need it," he yelled after him, glancing down at the information written down on his notepad.

"Mac, you are now indebted to me for the rest of your life," he muttered to himself, tossing his pen to the side.

He didn't know which was worse to deal with: an incensed, arrogant SecNav, or an incensed, worried Rabb.

'Rabb's gonna kill me'.

He placed his bets on the latter.

:: END CHAPTER TWO::


	3. Flying High, Falling Fast

**Title**: Trials and Tribulations

**Chapter** **Three**: Falling Fast, Flying High

**Author**: Macattack102712, aka MacMackenzie

**Disclaimer**: JAG doesn't belong to me. Never has, never will. If it did, Mac and Harm would have shacked up a looooong time ago.

**Publish Date**: October 018

Summary: Mac faces one of the hardest journeys of her life. But will she walk it alone or will she let those around her run the marathon with her?

**Authors Notes: **

See previous

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0510 MT

Mac's Apartment

Georgetown, VA

Mac gave her seabag one last inspection, carefully ensuring everything she could possibly need for the hospital was packed securely within its sturdy canvas walls. Her team of physicians had informed her the length of stay would be undeterminable until the operation was underway and they knew the tumor's definitive boundaries. The fact there were so many unknowns looming before her unsettled her, but there wasn't a thing she could do about it. All she could focus on was the here and now. Satisfied with the bag's contents, she re-zipped the monogrammed canvas flap. As she retrieved her jacket from the coatrack, her eyes caught the framed photograph resting on her entry table.

It was a picture of her and Harm during a recent trip to Afghanistan where they had come nose to nose with their own mortality. Taken shortly after their arrival back to base camp, their faces bore evidence of their dangerously close encounter with a buried landmine: scratches and crusted blood, hair and clothes smeared with dried, sweat-stained sand. Harm appeared the worse of the two, but in Mac's eyes, he had never looked more handsome. Their return had been a rather chaotic affair, with two medics, the camp commander, and Clay and Gunny swarming them the moment their Jeep pulled up to the gates, all relieved to know they were alive. In the rush to get them medical assistance, she vaguely recalled the photo being taken, but not the person who'd snapped it. She didn't have to wonder long, though. Within days of their return to JAG Headquarters, a copy of the photograph was delivered to her via postal mail, accompanied with a hastily scrawled note of appreciation:

'_Mac, _

_I owe you and Harm a thousand favors for agreeing to come to this hellhole of a country and helping with this case. I can say, with 100% assurance, your presence here was the most exciting thing that's happened to this camp of hormonal soldiers since a crate of Toblerone and Heineken beer arrived last month. _

_At any rate, enjoy the photograph. You looked great. _

_I'll make sure Harm receives a copy so he can stare at you when you're not around _

_Take care,_

_CW'_

A wave of tears sprang to her eyes at seeing Harm's lanky figure, one arm holding his rifle, the other resting on her shoulders. She could still feel the welcomed pressure from the weight of his arm, the feeling of security from that simple gesture. And oh! The memories of the one blissful night when they were forced to sleep under the stars. She could still feel the faint press of his lips against her forehead just as the dark fingers of sleep came to whisk her away, could still hear the quiet rumbling of his voice as he whispered his thanks to God for keeping her safe.

Mac promptly clamped her eyes shut.

No.

Now was not the time to get emotional. The admiral was due to arrive any moment; the last thing she wanted him to see was an emotional display. She was a Marine, for goodness sake! There was no crying in the Marine Corps!

With a quiet sniffle, she went to slide the frame in the side compartment of her bag, her finger pausing momentarily over her partner's face. For some inexplicable reason, it gave her a small dose of comfort to know he was there with her, even if just in a flimsy 4x6 piece of photo paper.

'Y_ou're being ridiculous, Mackenzie! Bringing a picture of Harm with you to the hospital!? You've lost your mind!_'

Giving a resolute shake of her head, she brushed the annoying remark aside, then slid the frame the rest of the way in. Her voice of reason could get lost.

She slipped her arms through the sleeves of her jacket, the brush of soft fleece material causing a wave of nostalgia to wash over her and temporarily derail her thoughts. A deep cobalt blue (her favorite color) with dark brown suede piping on the zippered front and suede patches on the elbows, she had spied it in a store display window while on an investigation with Harm earlier that month. She didn't really _need _it as she already had a jacket at home, but nonetheless, she entered the store to get a better look, Harm following closely behind. The texture was a welcoming softness against the dry skin of her fingers. Several long moments were spent debating whether or not to buy it, and although she loved it, she used the excuse of an unnecessary expense to forego its purchase.

As expected, Harm playfully ribbed her about it as he often did for her being cheap, but she couldn't help it. Her childhood, and a large majority of her twenties were spent pinching pennies to make ends meet. And despite her salary as a commissioned officer in the JAG Law Corps providing a very comfortable living, Mac often found herself clinging to her frugal ways. After one long, wistful gaze at the jacket, the rational part of her mind had the final say and they exited the store emptyhanded. Mac, too wrapped up in their discussion of witness interviews, failed to notice Harm glance back at the store more times than could be considered without purpose.

Later that evening, as she emerged from her bath, hair freshly shampooed and blown dry, a sharp knock sounded at the door. A quick check in the peephole provided validation to her suspicion that it was Harm. More than a little surprised he would visit her at such a late hour, 2200 to be exact, she simply assumed he'd been hit with a sudden epiphany or breakthrough on the case. Prepared to greet him with a teasing remark on his brain's inability to shut off, it vanished the moment he crossed the threshold….

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_FLASHBACK_

_2200 MT_

_Hamilton Inn and Suites_

_Room 230_

_Freeport, Maine_

Mac administered a light spritzing of Argon oil, then ran the brush through her silky locks to evenly distribute the product. The tv just outside the bathroom door switched over to the nightly news report, gently reminding her that it was fast approaching midnight, or 'the witching hour' as she loved to call it. As she zipped shut her toiletry bag and made to exit the bathroom, someone knocked on her door.

It could only be one person. Checking the peephole to be safe, she unlatched the safety lock, a teasing smile gracing her face. "Can't sleep, huh? Need me to read you a bedtime stor-".

The rest of the sentence slipped away upon seeing the hesitant look on his face, and she stepped aside to grant him entrance. He wordlessly shoved a small box into her hands.

Her puzzled expression asked the unspoken questions, conveyed in the way her eyebrows arched, mouth pulled into her signature quirk.

"I…I…uh, I thought you could use it, especially tomorrow". Harm nervously stuffed his hands in his pockets as he postured for her open the brown paper-wrapped package.

A sense of curiosity overtook Mac's confusion. It wasn't like Harm to get nervous. Moreover, it wasn't like him to exhibit behavior that resembled a school-aged boy giving his crush a homemade gift. At a loss for words, she seated herself at the small desk opposite the bed and gently popped the small strips of tape securing the lid. He stood just beyond her shoulder, and in her peripheral vision, she could see him nervously shifting his weight from one foot to the other. She cast aside the thin covering of tissue paper, then carefully removed the contents, the soft material of the jacket instantly registering against her fingertips. An audible gasp escaped her.

"Ohhhh, Harm!"

Speechless, her eyes darted between the jacket and Harm, wordlessly seeking validation that it was meant for her.

"Go ahead, try it on". Harm motioned for her to stand. "Make sure it fits before I take the tag off".

Mac quietly nodded as he stepped forward, taking the jacket from her outstretched hands.

"Here. Turn around". He separated the zipper and slipped it over her arms. She wiggled briefly to adjust the buttery soft material, then watched, mesmerized, as his nimble fingers quickly returned the zipper to the top.

Harm took a step back, evaluating the fit with critical eyes as though surveying his prized Stearman.

"It suits you. It uh….it looks good…with your eyes". He blushed, then cleared his throat to mask the awkwardness at realizing he'd been staring. "So….uh, you like it, then?"

Again, Mac could only nod as her fingers skimmed over the sleeves, in total disbelief that he had purchased this for her. She really didn't trust herself to speak, but upon seeing the near-panicked look that was fast developing in his eyes, she quickly fought to recover her voice.

"It's gorgeous. Oh, I love it!" And suddenly she had her arms around his neck, capturing him in a tortuously sweet embrace. "Thank you, Harm", her soft voice dusted the patch of skin between his neck and his collar, and she tightened her hold on him ever so slightly.

He returned the hug with equal enthusiasm, simply overjoyed at having her in his arms, if only for a brief moment. After a few long moments, she shifted back to place some distance between them. Her eyes were so full and bright that he found it hard, if not impossible, to not get lost in them.

A sudden realization swept over her, and he watched as her eyes went soft and round in response.

"So….you really didn't forget that file back at the command post, did you?"

He flashed an embarrassed smile, then shrugged with indifference. "Guilty as charged".

He had witnessed how much she loved the jacket, how her eyes lit up with admiration under the soft lighting in the store's windowfront. But, per typical Mac, she wouldn't splurge on herself. Now, if it had been a toy for little AJ, oh she would've bought it on the spot without a moment's hesitation! Unfortunately, when it came to spending money on _herself,_ she usually balked at simply entertaining the idea. And so it was upon this realization that Harm made the decision if _she_ wasn't willing to treat herself, _he _would.

The only problem? How to buy it without her knowledge.

He'd been contemplating how to do so since they had departed the quaint town, his brow furrowing deeper in thinly concealed frustration as the street lights shrank further and further behind them. It took almost the entire twenty-minute ride to derive a plan. Upon arriving at the hotel, he suddenly announced he'd forgotten an important file at the depot they'd been investigating. Of course, this was a complete fallacy, but it was the only way he could shake Mac long enough to accomplish his mission. She had offered to accompany him, but he quickly pointed out it was only twenty minutes away, and besides, she'd spent most of the ride to the hotel regaling him with her plans of a bubble bath in the jacuzzi tub. There was no need for her to waste forty minutes just so he could retrieve a simple folder. He'd made it back to the store in record time, just as the shopkeeper went to turn the 'Open' sign to 'Closed'. After a quick explanation of his intentions, he was hustled in, the jacket was purchased, and he was back on the roadl. All in all, the trip had cost him 45 minutes and $80, but the end result, in Harm's eyes, was priceless.

Her voice brought him back to the present when she repeated her sentiments. "Thank you, Harm. I love it".

"You're welcome, ninjagirl. Now you won't be cold tomorrow".

A quizzical expression crossed her face.

"You were shivering during our interviews. Our uniform coats aren't the best for this type of weather. This is thick enough to keep you warm," Harm touched her sleeve, "without being too bulky to wear underneath your coat".

His thoughtfulness struck a chord deep in her heart and it was all she could to keep the tears at bay. She quickly blinked them back. "You didn't have to do this".

He reached out to briefly touch her cheek. "Somebody's gotta keep you from catching hypothermia, right?". He flashed her his infamous smile before turning to leave. "Sweet dreams, ninjagirl".

In a sudden move full of boldness, she grabbed him by the shoulders to pull herself up and planted a soft kiss on his cheek. "Sweet dreams, flyboy".

He slipped out of her room, feeling as though a fire had been lit all the way to his toes from that one simple gesture. And he did have sweet dreams that night….dreams filled with visions of _her. _

All night long.

_END FLASHBACK_

As Mac went to zip up the jacket, she heard rustling just outside her door, then a quiet knock.

It was the Admiral.

She opened the door to allow him entrance before reaching to retrieve her bag, but AJ beat her to it.

"Sir, I can-"

He cut her off as he snatched it up in one fluid gesture. "Don't even start, Mac". He waited as she gave her apartment one final security check before pocketing her keys. "Ready, Marine?"

With a heavy sigh, she only nodded, not quite trusting her voice. As they exited her apartment, she gave the mirror above her entry table a passing glance. She knew that when she returned, she would be a changed woman.

She just didn't know how much.

0745

Bethesda Hospital

Bethesda, MD

Upon arrival, the staff registered her in the system and ushered them both to the pre-op center. There, AJ could go no further until they got Mac undressed, papers signed, and IV's and various monitors hooked up. It was quiet in the small divided room she shared with another patient, the curtain's flimsy canvas material doing little to provide an illusion of privacy. A few moments of soft bits of conversation from her roommate's family drifted to her side, followed by the squeaking of gurney wheels and rustling of bed sheets as they wheeled her out the door, then all was quiet once more.

Mac found herself watching the clock with an acute sense of awareness. It was nearly 0800. She wondered what Harm was up to; wondered if he'd already received his mission briefing. If there was one small blessing to be had from her impending surgery, it was that she would be under anesthesia for several hours, which meant she would spend most of the day completely oblivious to the anxiety and stress his quals always brought. Especially this time. She had come so close to losing him, had come so close to her life being irreversibly altered in so many terrible ways. That night, she'd been given not one miracle, but two: a chance to back out of her wedding to a man she cared for but did not love wholeheartedly, and a chance to make things right with the one man she did.

At the sudden pulling back of the curtain, Mac's thoughts were jerked back to the present. Her nurse had arrived to give an update.

"We're going to be administering your anesthesia in about thirty minutes, okay? Once we get you under, we'll wheel you to the surgery theatre. Dr. Owens will be here in just a moment to review everything with you again and he'll answer any questions you may have". The nurse smiled as she jotted down a few notes in her chart, then quickly left to fetch the physician.

The deafening silence gave Mac unwanted time to think about what was to take place. She wasn't necessarily scared of the pain or the scarring. She was worried as to what the end results would be: if it was confined or had spread to other areas. But what absolutely shook her to her very core was being anesthetized. In a disturbing way, she felt like she was being put to sleep. As in, put to death.

'_This must be what inmates on death row feel like when they are being lethally injected'_ she thought, fighting to keep the tears at bay. It was an absurd thought, she knew, but she couldn't control how she felt. The very knowledge of how fast the darkness would come to drag her into its bottomless depths scared her senseless.

'_Hold it together, Mackenzie! You're a Marine for Christ's sake_!'

Her thoughts were interrupted by the physician entering the room, followed by the same nurse attendant.

"Good morning, Colonel. I would say it's nice to have you with us, but I'm sure you don't feel the same given the situation". Dr. Owens settled himself on the stool beside her bed and grasped her trembling hand with his own. "I promise you, I will do everything I can to get it all out while I've got you under. I really do feel this is going to have a great outcome for you".

She gave him a tremulous nod, the words having difficulty escaping the thick lump in her throat. "Thank you, Doctor Owens."

He glanced at her legs, which she nervously shifted to dispel her anxiety, and he gave her a sympathetic smile. "Would it help if we gave you something for your nerves?"

She shook her head. "Thank you, but I don't want to take anything that could potentially be habit forming". At his raised eyebrow, she answered the unasked question. "Recovering alcoholic. Sober twelve years now".

He nodded with understanding. "I can appreciate that". He quickly reviewed her procedure with her, then asked if she had any questions before going out to deliver the same news to the Admiral.

"I don't have any questions. You've explained things very well, thank you. If it's not too much trouble, would you….would you ask my C.O. to come back here, please?" Her voice trembled with tears, but she managed to hold them back.

He patted her leg affectionately. "Absolutely. I'll review the procedure with him and send him in as soon as we're done". He exited the room, leaving Mac alone once again.

In the waiting room, Dr. Owens repeated the information with AJ, who nodded in understanding. The procedure was quite straightforward and simple; it was determining the extent of the cancer that wasn't. Following a brief question and answer session, Dr. Owens delivered Mac's request. "The Colonel has asked for you. We'll give you a few minutes to talk before we sedate her and take her back to the operating room. We find that patients are generally less stressed if they don't see all the equipment and surgical instruments."

AJ nodded in understanding, following in step beside the physician as they made their way back to Mac's room.

"We'll leave you two alone for a brief moment before we take her back". Dr. Owens pulled the curtain closed and exited the room.

AJ sat down beside Mac's bed, concern furrowing in his brow.

Mac's eyes were full of unshed tears and she was shifting her legs such that the bed was moving with her motions. He reached out to still one leg and grasped her hand with his other.

"Mac, it's going to be okay. Hell, you've been through combat twice and have come face to face with the business end of a rifle more times than I care to count. You and Rabb damn near got blown up by a landmine last summer. And you evacuated an entire embassy while under siege. This," he gestured to the sterile walls surrounding them, "is a walk in the park".

"I know, sir". Her voice was soft and timid, so unlike the strong-willed Marine that was infamous for calling her partner out on his shit or putting disrespectful junior officers in their place. "I just hate being put to sleep". She hastily swiped at the tears that refused to stay back. "I know it's stupid, but I feel like I'm being lethally injected".

AJ pulled a few tissues form the box on her bedside table and handed them to her. "There is nothing stupid about the way you are feeling. No shame to be had here, is that understood?".

She nodded, almost imperceptibly. "Yes sir".

A moment of silence fell over them, the ticking of the clock and the quiet beeping of the machines echoing rather loudly amongst the barren walls. It was evident, from the furtive glances she cast between him and the clock, that she had something on her mind, and it wasn't just the surgery.

"Sir?"

Her voice was so quiet that he had to lean down a bit to hear her.

"Yes, Mac?"

Another long moment of silence followed, in which AJ simply gave her time to gather her thoughts. Whatever she wanted to share, it was obviously important.

"I need you to promise me something".

He gave her a wary look.

"Please, sir, it's…it's important".

With a sigh, he acquiesced. "Against my better judgement, go on".

"Would you….would you make sure," she paused, biting her lip in an attempt to maintain her composure. "make sure he knows…if something happens-"

"And it's NOT". AJ didn't need clarification. He knew who she was referring to; knew who had her heart. He also didn't want either of their thoughts to enter into dangerously negative territory. "Mac, he already knows. And I think, after this, it may just be enough to kick his ass in gear. Lord knows I've been waiting on you two more years than I have fingers to count with".

His comment earned a brief smile from her before it slipped away.

"Thank you for that. And for staying with me."

AJ shook his head in disbelief. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, Mac. That's what family is for".

Dr. Owens returned at that moment with the anesthesiologist. "Alright guys, let's get this show on the road. The faster we get you back," he gestured towards Mac, "the faster we can get you on the road to recovery".

Mac knew what was getting ready to happen, and she unconsciously tightened her hold on the Admiral's hand. "Please don't leave". Her quiet pleas drove sharp splinters into AJ's heart. He was a damn NAVY SEAL, but seeing the utter fear and desperation in his officer's eyes nearly cut him to the knees. He looked up at Dr. Owens, who gave a nod of approval. "I don't see why you can't stay with her".

"I'll be right here when you wake up, you have my word". He squeezed her hand and gave her a warm smile of encouragement. "Nothing to be afraid of, Mac."

Mac nodded as the nurse slowly administered the sedative, and a steady stream of tears rolled uncontrollably down her cheeks. Her frightened eyes fastened on AJ's. "Don't leave me," she drawled out despairingly, her speech affected just mere seconds later. She tried to fight the wave of darkness that swept towards her, but it ultimately pulled her into the deep abyss beyond consciousness. She gave in with a final sob.

AJ watched as her eyes struggled to stay open, a few errant tears slipping down her cheeks as they finally gave up the fight and fluttered closed. Her hand suddenly went limp within his, her facial features relaxing, free from the stress and anxiety.

She was asleep.

The nurse shook her head while she taped the oxygen tubing against Mac's cheeks and secured her IV line. "I've been doing this job for over twenty years, but I've never seen a patient more terrified of being anesthetized." With a tissue, she wiped away the moisture from the tears that had run into Mac's ears. "Bless your heart. Don't you worry, we're going to take good care of you". She turned to fix AJ with a firm look. "You better make sure you're at her bedside when she wakes up. You'll be the first thing she looks for. It's comforting to have a familiar face to wake up to, especially after the trauma from surgery".

"Trust me, I'm not going anywhere. Besides, there's a certain Naval Commander that would pin my ass against the wall if something happened to her".

"Oh?" she raised her eyebrows in question.

"Yep," AJ sighed, rubbing a hand over his bald head, "six years of dancing around each other, various partners, and a broken engagement, _thankfully_, to the wrong man, yet they still can't seem to get it right".

"Well maybe," the nurse glanced at Mac's prone figure, "a medical scare like this is what it will take to make them realize what's right in front of them".

AJ gave a snort of amusement. "I sure hope you're right. The only problem is, the aforementioned Naval Commander is unaware of her situation. He's TDY on a carrier until the end of the week". He nodded towards Mac. "She didn't want him to know until he returned".

"Trying to protect him, huh?"

"Something like that. I feel as if those two are solely and completely responsible for having aged me ten years in the last five". He folded his arms, looking at Mac. "But if there are two people in this world who deserve a chance at true happiness, by God, it's them".

As the nurse unlocked the wheels on the hospital bed, AJ took his place at Mac's beside. A man of his word, he held her limp hand while she was pushed down the long corridor to the double doors leading into the surgery theatre. There, he could go no further. He leaned down close to her ear.

"Hurry up and make things right with Rabb. I want grandbabies before I get too old to enjoy them. Hoorah Marine!". AJ gave her hand one last squeeze before pulling himself to his full height. "Take damn good care of her in there". His voice was gruff, laced with an underlying tone of fatherly protection.

"She's in good hands," Dr Owens assured him, "we'll keep you updated every hour".

"You'd better". AJ cleared his throat roughly, his eagle eyes following their every move until they wheeled her beyond the doors, and she disappeared from his sight

With a sigh, he settled himself in one of the plush leather chairs, left alone with his thoughts to and wait it out.

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0800 MT

USS Seahawk

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean.

Harm twirled the pen in his hand, periodically jotting down notes in his pad. He'd been given his mission briefing just thirty minutes prior. The first instructions were simple enough: fly low, obliterate the enemy transport tank located ten miles from the compound, get out before the dummy missile was launched.

Easy peasy. Standard Operating Procedure. A mission he'd literally flown a dozen times before.

But he couldn't seem to rid himself of the inexplicable thread of anxiety, the uncharacteristic uneasiness that had crept into the back of his mind and refused to go away. The rational part of him pointed out it was because of what happened the night of his last quals. A night that, had it gone differently, would have ended in mind-numbing tragedy for so many people he loved so much: Trish, Frank, Sergei,….Mac.

Ohhhhhh Mac.

At the mere thought of her, his eyes were drawn to the small laminated photograph he'd taped beside his desk lamp. It was a picture of the two of them during their recent trip to Afghanistan, where both were given a sobering reminder of how quickly one solitary second could alter their lives indefinitely. And not for the better. They had just returned to base camp following a harrowing close call with not one, but two, buried roadside landmine. Both bore a plethora of cuts and abrasions, but one look in the Jeep's rearview mirror confirmed Mac's argument he looked the worst of the two.

Harm didn't care, though. He'd nearly lost her, yet the powers above deemed him worthy enough to get to keep her. His mind endlessly replayed the moment their Jeep's tires ran over the explosive, the look of determination on her face when she explained her MacGyver-esque plan to delay detonation from the butterfly mine he'd stepped on, the feel of her soft body against his as he protected her from the dirt and debris that rained down. Following their escape from the landmine situation, they had abandoned their vehicle (for safety's sake) in favor of taking shelter amongst the rock formations for the night. The very thought of losing her brought tears to his eyes, threatened to freeze the blood flowing in his veins, and drive the last breath from his body. The realization she never hesitated, not even for a second, to put her life on the line for him, was something he struggled to reconcile. The hot tears spilled over unchecked. He pressed a trembling kiss to her temple, thankful she did not bear witness to this moment of self-perceived weakness; sleep had long-since laid claim to her.

It took a long time (Mac would know the exact hour, down to the second) for his heart to settle back in its rightful place, for his hands to stop shaking while he held her body flush against his. And it was only because she was there. In his arms. Safe from the evils of the outside world.

The following morning, he awoke to the familiarly sweet pair of brown eyes, so full of warmth….and something else he couldn't quite put his finger on. He recalled having slept remarkably well considering the unforgivingly hard terrain, but he knew it didn't have anything to do with his standard-issued BDUs. More so, it had everything to do with the warm, intoxicatingly soft body of the Marine that now greeted him with a mischievous grin, offering him 'breakfast in bed' by means of the less-than-palatable MRE in her hands.

Upon their hasty return to base camp, the pair were swarmed by a plethora of people, including Clay and Gunny, all relieved to know "Butch and Sundance" (as Mac affectionately called themselves), were alive indeed. He vaguely recalled Clay snapping a quick photo as they stood beside the vehicle, but what really stuck out was the look of smug curiosity that crossed Clay's face while Mac reported their camping out under the stars.

He should have known Clay wouldn't let that go.

Sure enough, upon their return home, a thin yellow envelope was delivered via post mail to his office. In it was a 4x6 copy of the photograph, and a handwritten thank-you note:

'_Harm,_

_You might want to sit down for the contents of this letter. _

_I know you're not accustomed to my expressions of appreciation for roping you into another one of "The Agency's" (as you so affectionately call us) cases, so here goes:_

_Thanks for being willing to leave your blandly decorated bachelor pad to get your hands dirty in the field. I know the mission didn't go exactly as planned, but I'm willing to bet my inheritance the desert wasn't the only thing that got steamy that night. I'm quite certain your "evening under the stars" with a certain Marine certainly made up for any inconvenience we put you thru. _

_Rabb, I'll say this: if that encounter with Abdul's Special #1 wasn't enough to get your head out of your ass, then maybe you don't deserve her. You were a fool for allowing that pig-headed Aussie to nearly haul her off to Oz, and you'll be an even bigger fool if you let this chance burn up under the Afghan sun._

_Get your shit together. I'm itching to wear my three-piece purple suit to yours and Mac's wedding._

_See you at "The Agency's" next adventure!_

_-CW'_

_P.S. Here's a picture you can stare at when she's not around….or otherwise not speaking to you. Try to contain your drool, you animal'. _😉

He remembered removing the photograph. Remembered being captivated, as so many, many times before, of her astounding beauty. God if she wasn't the most beautiful, most amazing woman he'd ever met. So full of life, love, and joy for those around her. And yet, he'd seen the fear, the angst, the resentment in her eyes when he'd informed her of his impending quals _yet again_. He cringed inwardly as he recalled the look of worry that swept across her face before she could temper her reaction. That ever-present façade of Marine indifference could not cover the deepest of human emotions, no matter how hard she tried.

But there was something in the way she had looked at him just before he departed her office. He just couldn't shake the feeling there was more going on…he just couldn't put his finger on it. A quick glance at his watch confirmed her hour of wakefulness had begun, and so, in a spur of the moment decision, he reached for the phone.

A knock at his bulkhead door interrupted him.

'Enter!' he called out, biting back a groan of frustration while returning the receiver to its handset.

A young Ensign opened the hatch and came to attention before him.

"At east, Ensign. What can I do for you?"

"Sir, Captain Williams has requested your presence in the briefing room immediately".

Harm nodded with affirmation, capping his pen and closing his notebook. "Thank you, Ensign, I'm on my way". As he rose from his table, his eyes, once more, fell to the photograph. In a split-second decision, he removed it from the wall and peeled the thin strip of tape off. For some inexplicable reason, having her with him, even if just in the form of a thin 4x6 photograph, brought a sense of great comfort and reassurance. His forefinger traced the outline of her face before he gently tucked the photo into the front pocket of his flight suit.

The last time he'd done his quals, he'd made a promise to the right person for all the wrong reasons. Last time, the thought of returning home burned like a lump of goals in his gut. This time, though, he'd made a promise to the right person for all the right reasons.

This time…..he couldn't wait to get home.

:::END CHAPTER THREE::


	4. Heart of Darkness

Title: Trials and Tribulations

Chapter Three: Heart of Darkness

Author: Macattack102712, aka MacMackenzie

Disclaimer: JAG doesn't belong to me. Never has, never will. If it did, Mac and Harm would have shacked up a looooong time ago.

Publish Date: August 2018

Summary: Mac faces one of the hardest journeys of her life. But will she walk it alone or will she let those around her run the marathon with her?

Authors Notes: This story takes place in S7. Everything is presented in MT (Military Time), with EST the marker

Give feedback or I'll hunt you down. 'Nuff said.

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1110 Zulu

Sturgis' office

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

The blinds on the door rattled as Sturgis stepped out of his office to retrieve the preliminary reports from the communal printer. He'd been waiting on them all morning, and to say he was anxious to get them was an understatement. As he wove his way thru the maze of office equipment and desks littering the bullpen, it occurred to him that headquarters was quieter than usual. Not that he minded, of course. The lack of noise and commotion provided a much-needed respite from the incessant ringing of the phones or chattering of his colleagues. He needed all the focus he could get. Buried up to his eyeballs in the Yawn investigation, it was becoming blaringly obvious that he was going to be spending late nights in the office reviewing each piece of information. The case, he had been warned, had garnered a dangerously high level of scrutiny. And it was his duty, with the assistance of Ensign Sims, to ensure each tip was investigated, every potential witness interviewed, all facts corroborated. Any overlooked detail could mean the difference between his client walking away with an unauthorized absence charge and five years in the brig, or a lengthy list of charges that would land him in Leavenworth. For life.

But if his suspicions were right, his recent findings could spell big trouble for Mac's (_now his_!) client.

Not for the first time that day did he wonder why the Admiral had suddenly pulled him from the Crowe investigation and placed him on the Yawn case, with no explanation and little more than a warning to 'tread carefully'. With Rabb aboard the Seahawk for his quals, and Mattoni and Imes TDY to the USS Fitzgerald, there were only two other senior officers left at HQ: himself, and Colonel Mackenzie. His gaze settled on her office. It was dark, and it was obvious that she had not been in that morning.

_Come to think of it, he hadn't seen her since yesterday, and she wasn't on the TDY board. _

The fax machine indicated it was finished printing the report. Picking up the freshly printed report, he gave a perfunctory scan of its contents. He shook his head, cursing the powers that be for the sour turn of events. "Exactly what I was afraid of," he muttered aloud, rubbing a frustrated hand over his eyes. "Shit".

His suspicions had been right.

He hastily shoved the papers in a manila folder. He needed to discuss this report with the Admiral, and fast, before the reporters at _ZNN _could get wind of the investigation.

Tucking the folder beneath his right arm, he beat a hasty tread to the Admiral's antechamber. "Tiner, I need to meet with the Admiral if he's available".

Tiner looked up from the computer and gave Sturgis an apologetic smile. "I'm sorry sir, but he's not in".

"Oh". Sturgis deflated. "Can you schedule me this afternoon, then?"

Tiner shook his head. "No sir, he's out for the remainder of the day".

"Well, what about tomorrow?" he pressed further. "Can you put me down for 080?"

"I'm sorry, Commander," Tiner gave Sturgis a look of utmost regret, "but, the Admiral's not in tomorrow, either".

Sturgis' eyes narrowed, and he couldn't help the hint of irritation that crept into his voice. "When will he be in, Tiner? It's important that I speak with him. It's about the Yawn investigation. You know, the one that's got a Russian nuke aimed at it."

"Uh, sir," Tiner hesitated, "the Admiral took personal leave. He didn't say when he would return".

Suspicion edged its way into the corners of Sturgis' mind.

'_Since when did AJ ever take unannounced leave?_'

He'd been at JAG almost a full year, and during that time, he couldn't recall a single moment where AJ secured early for the day, let alone take leave. It seemed that his Commanding Officer was living up to the office scuttlebutt that pegged him as a workaholic.

"Hmmm..." he murmured to himself, "interesting". He tapped the folder against his leg in thought. The chiming of the hour rang out quietly in the small antechamber, and Sturgis glanced at the position of the hands on the ornate, wooden clock.

_1100._

A sudden realization surfaced. "Tiner, correct me if I'm wrong, but did the Admiral not have a meeting scheduled with SecNav Nelson at 1100 today?".

Tiner began to shift uncomfortably in his chair. He'd been given strict orders to keep disclosure of the Admiral's whereabouts to a bare minimum, but he didn't know how many non-committal responses he could give without raising suspicion. "He cancelled it, sir". He prayed that Commander Turner wouldn't ask any more questions.

No such luck.

"Okaaaay," he clucked his tongue. "What about Colonel Mackenzie? Maybe she can help considering she did some of the initial legwork on this case. Is she in today?" He gestured at the scheduling board on the wall outside AJ's antechamber. "I didn't see her listed on the active investigations or TDY board".

The junior officer began to sweat under the intense scrutiny. "Sir, uh….she's also on leave, sir".

Sturgis liked the sound of that even less. His commanding officer, as well as his Chief of Staff, were both out of the office with no return date. "Interesting…." Sturgis repeated his earlier sentiments. "Interesting indeed". Silence lingered between them before he spoke again. "I'm assuming the Admiral has his work phone with him".

At the risk of evoking the future wrath of a perturbed Admiral, Tiner gave as honest answer as he could manage, given the intense scrutiny. "I believe so, yes, sir".

"Thank you, Tiner. Let me know when Colonel Mackenzie plans to return". He turned on his heel and exited the office without waiting for Tiner's response.

Tiner slumped back in his chair and blew out a breath.

'Shit'.

Just what he needed. An interrogation by one of his Commanding Officer's senior lawyers. There were some days he was convinced he didn't get paid enough at his job.

Today was one of those days.

He reached into the bottom drawer of his desk for the large bottle of aspirin he kept there for days just like this.

And came up empty handed. The bottle was gone.

_Shit_.

He remembered he'd given his bottle to the Admiral the other day and had forgotten to ask for it back. He groaned aloud.

_Shit, indeed. _

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1120 MT

Bethesda Women's Center

Third Floor Waiting Room

Bethesda, MD

AJ shifted in the uncomfortable chair and let out a disgruntled sigh. He'd read the same page in his book for the umpteenth time, without having absorbed any of the content. Despite the quiet environment cloaking the waiting room, he found it difficult to concentrate. With an irritated huff, he turned the page back to the beginning of the chapter. He glanced at his watch and frowned. The surgeon had told him it would only take two hours, yet the procedure was already well into its third hour. There had been no sign of Mac or her surgical team since the second hour had passed.

A sense of unease pricked his senses.

_What on earth was taking so long?_

It occurred to him that he hadn't been this anxious since Marcella had welcomed their daughter into the world. Despite three decades having passed, he could still remember, with vivid clarity, the enormous weight on his shoulders and the tightness in his chest as he waited to hear that both mother and newborn were okay. While AJ loved his career and serving his country, it came at a high price: the cost of his family.

The moment he held his newborn daughter in his arms, time seemed to stand still. The world slipped away. The traumatic memories of his time in Vietnam retreated into the shadows, banished by the overwhelming love of new life. He tucked her close against his chest, the smell of baby powder and lotion drawing him in. The moment she turned her big blue eyes upon him, his heart exploded into a tiny million pieces. How the universe could have entrusted such a tiny, vulnerable person to him was something he could never understand. He wanted to be everything to her: her protector, her confidant, her knight-in-shining armor. Her hero. Her everything. He wanted to be there for the first steps, the first day of preschool, her first school dance, her first broken heart. But time, and life, had other ideas.

If he'd only known how it would all turn out….

His daughter had grown into a beautiful young lady: ambitious, smart as a whip, and far more than capable of taking care of herself. And while AJ had tried hard to remain an influential part of her life, especially during the formative years, he knew the real reason for her success belonged to his ex-wife. Marcella had made do with so little, had sacrificed so much to ensure their daughter flourished within the confines of a secure, loving home. She had worked hard to make sure Francesca grew to be independent, self-reliant, and with the confidence to pursue her passions. Unfortunately, despite AJ's best efforts, his marriage to Marcella began to disintegrate as Francesca entered elementary school. Thee strain of long-distance assignments, military obligations, (and as AJ later realized, post-traumatic stress from his tours in Vietnam) and frequent moves wearing thin the tenuous line that kept them all tied together. Many nights were spent going to bed with tears, many mornings were spent waking up on the living room sofa. But when AJ finally realized the role he played in the demise of his marriage, it was too late to fix it.

After the divorce was finalized, he threw himself into the only thing he left: his job. And aside from his daughter, he hardened his heart to anyone and everyone around him. He vowed to never let anyone close to him again. He worked long days, always being the first to arrive and the last to leave. He told himself he was dedicated to his career; that his country, his job needed him. But it was all one dirty lie. The reality was, AJ hated coming home to an empty house. The sheer exhaustion from a long day of work nearly guaranteed he would be too tired to notice the deafening silence or the sadness that seemed to bleed from within the very walls of his house.

He couldn't even bring himself to call it a home. A home was filled with love. Joy. Laughter. Dirty handprints on the walls. Clumsy crayon drawings stuck to the fridge. Bikes and outdoor toys abandoned in the yard. Homework scattered on the kitchen table.

A house was filled with emptiness. Silence. Sadness. Pristine walls painted in a drab tan. Meaningless trinkets from world travels scattered about. Perfectly manicured lawns. Legal documents stacked neatly on the dining room table.

A house, in AJ's opinion, was nothing more than a place where one rested their head, fixed their meals, washed laundry, and got ready for work, only to wake up and do it all over again the next day. There was no life. No laughter. No joy to be found. Only the monotony of the day-to-day obligations that he found himself mired within. Oh no, his house was nothing more than just that. A house.

Upon receiving his new orders at JAG, he'd set out with the standard operating procure as he had every other assignment: instill a strict sense of propriety, purpose and duty. But the moment he'd stepped thru the doors, it was different. His assignment at JAG changed everything. Not all at once, of course. It was gradual, like the daylight growing longer after a hard winter's thaw. He couldn't explain it, couldn't put his finger on it. But one thing was clear: he'd never felt a connection to his staff there than he had at any of his previous command assignments. One by one, they slowly nudged their way into his frozen heart, chipping away the blocks of ice he'd worked so hard to put up. And before he realized it, they had thawed his heart from the inside out.

He shared their joys. Their trials. Their tribulations.

When Harm finally learned the truth of his father's demise, AJ felt crushed for the younger man. He knew what it felt like to wait, for days…months…years, for his father, his _hero, _to return home. Only AJ's father had left on his own accord, and it certainly wasn't for a noble cause that was serving one's. The elder Chegwidden had abandoned his wife and two young children for another woman, not giving so much as a glance back at the family he left behind.

When Sarah Roberts had died, it ripped AJ's heart clean out of his chest. He would never, for the rest of his days on Earth, forget the feeling of absolute despair as Bud wept from the knowledge his newborn daughter had slipped inot the arms of death. And in spite of three decades of ingrained protocol, propriety, and desensitization to death, AJ wept too. He wept for Bud, for Harriet, for baby Sarah. And he wept for himself. He wept for the loss at being twice a grandfather. He wept for the loss of _his_ family.

Bud, Harriet, Harm, Victor, Tiner, Sturgis…Mac, they were all family. _His_ family. And he'd do whatever he could to protect them. Shelter them. Protect them. Cry with them. Be for them.

When he learned of Mac's health problems, there was no hesitation on his part to jump in and do the right thing. She was like a daughter, and he loved her as though she were. He felt, although Mac and Harm were grown, that he was given a second chance to be the father he should have been to Francesca. And so he'd embraced the role of 'Father AJ' as much as he could considering his position, hidden beneath a gruff exterior.

But it was there. It always would be. Because they were his kids, and he loved them.

His kids.

His family.

AJ took another steadying breath and willed his nerves to calm. He never liked getting close to his staff. But it had nothing to do with them and everything to do with his fear of screwing up and taking everyone down with him. Just like he did Marcella and Francesca.

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1230 MT

Flight Deck of the USS Seahawk

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean

If there was any one place Harm might call home, it was the narrow strip of purposefully forged steel and asphalt floating in the middle of an unforgiving ocean. That was where he knew one half of his heart could be found, anxiously awaiting the next touch-n-go on an undulating bulls' eye no bigger than a pencil tip from the air. He ducked as he opened the bulkhead door, his tall frame making navigating cramped quarters a bit of a pain. He'd often been teased that he'd end up a crumpled man in his elder years as a result of having to bend so much. The tight quarters made him very aware of his height, having received more than his fair share of forehead knots and scalp lacerations as a result. But he wouldn't be anywhere else.

Except at JAG.

His other home.

Aside from Skates, who was frequently stationed on the opposite side of the world, there was no one with whom he could talk to about his love for flying. No one understood his enthusiasm. No one had any use for his passion.

_Except Mac. _

He felt his mind slipping away, retreating to the distant memory of a starry night under the Afghan sky, where everything he so desperately wanted was wrapped securely in his arms. Her warm, pliable form melded to his hardened muscles in all the right ways. Her breathy sighs, as she succumbed to sleep, fluttered deliciously against his throat. Her soft breasts pressed against his chest as she unconsciously sought more warmth in his embrace. In that moment, he knew there was no closer step to heaven.

Because, he was already there. He held it in his arms.

She seemed to merge, chameleonlike, into his world, bringing light into the darkened corners of his heart, filling the empty spaces with joy, breathing life into the dormant expanse that now pulsed with new meaning. Amplified by the very essence that made _her, _she had a presence, a calm about her that bordered the ethereal. Her gaze and attention seemed to focus on supporting his every hope and dream. Unlike Renee, who had been, in sharp contrast, a disconcerting presence. When not mollifying his basic physical needs, she spent long hours preening herself, not giving so much as a passing thought to what his _soul_ needed.

Nobody could understand him, but it didn't matter. What mattered was that _she_ did. She was able to read the complex story that was his life, the chapters that wove a bewildering pattern that ran across his heart. His very soul was branded by images and feelings that served as a reminder of those things that were worth living for. The others served as a silent witness to a dark time where he searched for reason, only to find nothing but emptiness…oblivion.

He paused just before the bulkhead door leading into the briefing room and checked his watch. Four more hours until his next set. And only one more day until he was back home. With her

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1230 MT

Bethesda Women's Center

Third Floor Waiting Room

Bethesda, MD

AJ thumbed the page over, smoothing the crinkled paper before taking up the next chapter. He gave a perfunctory scan of the hallway. Another thirty minutes had passed, and still no sign of Mac. He was more than irritated. He was growing downright worried.

A buzz at his hip alerted him to an incoming call. He removed the cellphone from its holder and looked at the caller ID. It was Commander Turner. He hit the answer button. "Commander, what can I do for you?"

"Sir, excuse me for interrupting your personal time, but I really need to discuss the Yawn case with you, if at all possible".

AJ set his book to the side and removed his glasses. "Go ahead".

"Sir, I received the police report this morning, and…well," Sturgis hesitated, "it's not looking good. There's a possibility that there is more than….one official's son involved in this".

"I'm listening, Commander".

"Sir, surveillance footage from the bank's parking lot showed the reflection of another car in the bank's windows. We managed to get the license plate number. It was registered to a lady by the name of Regina Manningfield".

AJ frowned. "How does this relate to our man?"

"Manningfield works as a dancer at the strip club just off the interstate. Goes by the stage name, 'Gina Valentina'. She was questioned over the murder of her boyfriend, Robbie King. The murder happened the same night Commander Yawn withdrew the money and disappeared. Manningfield took out a restraining order against King a month before the murder, and claims the shooting was self-defense."

"I'm still not understanding where the connection is, Commander".

"Sir, the gun used in the murder was traced back to Yawn. Had partial traces of his finger prints on it, too. I'm on my way to interview Manningfield to find out how the gun ended up in her hands, since it wasn't reported stolen. I have a feeling Yawn was a frequent patron of the club Manningfield worked at. If he did anything there, he paid cash because there's no financial transactions tying him to the club. We also know King is…well, _was,_ the primary target in a big sting operation that went down last year. He got wind of it and jumped town before the feds could bust him".

"Who all does this implicate, Commander?"

"Well, sir, we traced the serial number on the gun back to a pawn shop in Newport News. The serial number shows the gun was purchased last week. We pulled the video footage from the day the gun was purchased. There were four other men that walked in with Yawn. One of them was the same guy who the feds and NCIS hired to do the drug research for the base sting operation. His name's Thomas Stewart...the grandson of Vice Admiral General James H. Stewart. Sir, I...I think he may be involved".

AJ was quiet for a moment as absorbed the information. Quiet long enough that Sturgis had to question if he was still on the line. "Sir, are you there?"

AJ nodded. "Yes, Commander. Just trying to digest this recent piece of information".

James was a longtime friend of AJ's, having done combat together in Vietnam before receiving separate assignments in neighboring states. They were groomsmen in each other's weddings, attending christenings, graduations, and birthdays whenever possible. Despite the distance and time that separated them, both remained an active part of each other's lives. To think Stewart's own flesh and blood could be caught up in affairs detrimental to the safety of his country was disappointing, to say the least.

"Sir, if I am to continue on this case, I'm going to need a lot more manpower. I have a feeling I'm about to kick a hornet's nest". In the background, Sturgis heard what he thought to be a hospital intercom page. He paused. "Sir, are you….is everything okay?"

AJ grimaced, thankful that his junior officer couldn't see him. "Yes, Commander, as far as I know it is". He was about to ask another question when movement at the end of the hallway caught his attention.

They were coming out with Mac.

"Commander, I hate to cut this short, but I need to let you go. Keep me in the loop and _watch your six_". He ended the call before his officer could say any further. AJ was on his feet in one fluid motion, tossing the crime novel and cellphone aside to meet them halfway. Dr Owens flashed a tired smile as he pulled the hospital bed to a gentle stop. "I apologize for the delay, sir, but it was a complicated and difficult surgery. The tumor was larger and rooted far deeper than what showed on the scans. During excision, I inadvertently nicked a large artery. She lost quite a bit of blood before we could get it sealed off".

AJ's face remained neutral as the thought of them causing her undue pain, even though certainly unintentional, did not set well with him. He clamped down on his rising temper and nodded at the physician to continue.

"With the loss of blood and the time under anesthesia, she began showing signs of stress. I didn't feel comfortable keeping her under any longer," he explained, "I worked to get as much of it I could, but there is a chance I'll have to back and do a revision".

AJ scrutinized her prone form, noting her uncontrollable shivering and the disconcerting pallor of her face. He took her hand within his, shocked to find it unnaturally cold. He pinned his staff with a deprecating look. "She's freezing".

One of the nurses placed a hand on his arm in reassurance. "It's the anesthesia and loss of blood. Once we start flushing it out of her system, and her platelets build up, her color will return. We've got a warming blanket over her to get her body temperature up".

He mulled this information over for a minute, then nodded.

"She'll be in CCU for the next few days," Dr. Owens added. "We want to keep a close eye on her. She's going to have a bit longer of a recovery period, unfortunately".

With a gruff, 'very well', AJ followed the team down the hallway to her room, where they pulled the privacy curtain. There, he was made to wait outside the door as the staff worked to get her settled.

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1400 MT

Bethesda Women's Center

Third Floor, Room 317

Bethesda, MD

A dull throbbing encompassing her head nudged Mac awake. Disoriented, she struggled to make sense of the strange noises, smells, and sights that waged warfare on her senses. She heard movement. The rustle of cloth, a creak of a chair. She fought to find her breath.

She had to run. Had to get away.

The darkness was coming for her.

"Don't!" she cried out, trying to cover her face at the impending onslaught.

The hands stopped in midair.

"Don't hurt me! Please, don't hurt me!" she whispered.

Then came the pain.

Her mouth opened, lips twisting in agony, but no sound came forth. The pain was beyond articulation. It flared up from her chest and down her arm as if she'd been plunged chest deep into a vat of acid, a burning that seemed to sear the flesh from her bones and leave all of her nerve endings bared, scraped raw from some unseen force.

She could feel her arm being pushed aside, the movement sending blinding stars of pain in her chest. She clamped her mouth shut against the torment that grew in intensity every moment.

"Please stop", she moaned, between her gritted teeth.

The sound of a hundred different noises seemed to fill her head. Voice she didn't recognize. Strange beepings and mutterings. Yet, the room stayed dark.

She used her other hand to feel for the ground. She had to run. She had to get away from this. She had to escape from wherever _this _was. She called out for help, but there was no one there.

Or so she thought.

Her movements caught AJ's eyes, and he was immediately at her side, gently capturing her hands in his own.

"Mac! Mac! It's okay, it's okay. Don't pull your tubing out". He kept his hold on her hands with one hand while reaching over the bed to press the call button with the other.

She voiced her frustration at her thwarted efforts. "Burns. It burns" she mumbled, struggling to work through thru the fog that trapped her from within. She pushed against his hands, desperate to get away from the pain. "Hurts…."

He kept her hands firmly but gently entrapped within his as he tried to calm her. "I know it does, Mac. You just got out of surgery".

"Make…it…stop…." she whispered, her eyes hazy and unfocused. "Please…".

The nurse entered the room and AJ quickly explained Mac's discomfort.

"I'll give her something for pain while I look at her sutures and make sure everything is still looking good".

Even in her medication-induced state, Mac knew AJ was there. "_Please…don't….leave….me_".

Reluctant to leave her in such a state of distress, but understanding he needed to step out for privacy, he gave her hands a comforting squeeze. "The nurse is going to check you over, Mac. I can't stay in here while they do, okay?" he reassured her, "I'll be just outside the door, I promise".

Mutely she nodded, her hands fisting in response to the pain when he let go of them. "_Oh….god_".

AJ gave her hand one more squeeze before quickly vacating the room so the nursing staff could do their job. It tore his heart up to see her so distressed, and he prayed it wouldn't take long for her discomfort to be alleviated.

As the door swung shut behind him, his hand paused at his hip where he kept his cellphone. He'd made a promise to Mac, and he was a man of his word.

But….the vulnerability she'd presented, the pain and fear etched across her face, combined with the complications, played tug of war with his heart and his conscience.

For the first time in years, AJ broke a promise he'd made.

Before he could change his mind, he pulled out his phone, punched in a familiar number, and listened to the phone ring on the other end of the line. It made no difference that he was breaking a promise. AJ didn't need extra proof that his officer needed _him._ AJ had seen it in her eyes just as the sedative had claimed her, an uncertainty, like she didn't trust the situation.

She needed him, and he was going to do whatever it took to get him to her.

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1430 MT

Somewhere in the Atlantic Ocean

USS Seahawk

"Admiral, to what pleasure do I owe this call?" Captain Tobias "Toby" Ingles greeted, leaning back in his chair while reviewing the clipboard containing upcoming flight schedules. "Rabb has been on his best behavior, if that's what you're wanting to know".

AJ shook his head despite the slight grin that tugged at the corner of his mouth. "No, Captain, while I appreciate the fact that my lawyer is behaving himself, I'm calling to see if there is any way he could defer the rest of his quals?"

Tobias frowned. Normally, AJ wasn't one to request exceptions for his people when they were under the jurisdiction of another officer, especially if he thought it would show favoritism. "Admiral, I really don't have the scheduling capacity to do this on a whim. I've got a ship filled to the brim with pilots fighting for their lineup". A sudden thought occurred to him. His frown deepened. "Rabb said he gave you enough notice so you wouldn't be short on manpower back at JAG".

AJ sighed, rubbing his forehead. If there ever were a time in which he called in favors, now was certainly one of them. "Tobias, this….has nothing to do with JAG business".

Alarm washed over Tobias at the use of his first name. He could count, on one hand, the number of occasions AJ had ever dropped rank when conducting official business, the last of which had occurred when Harm went down in the ocean. Just the memory made his stomach clench. He cleared his throat. After the events of Rabb's previous quals, the last place he wanted to be was in the crosshairs of an upset family. "Is there something I need to know, AJ?"

"Let's just say, I've got a certain Marine Colonel who needs him a helluva lot more than the Navy does right now".

Tobias was quiet for a moment. The only person in AJ's command that fit that description was Lieutenant Colonel Sarah "Mac" Mackenzie, and in the few times he'd had interactions with her, she'd impressed the hell out of him. She was quite the capable officer and an even more 'by-the-book' lawyer. It had certainly crossed his mind, on more than one occasion, that it would be to Rabb's benefit if he copied a page or two out of her book…instead of ripping them out. "I'm assuming this Marine Colonel is the same one Rabb risked his life to get back to the night he dunked my $40 million-dollar aircraft into the ocean".

AJ nodded, although the gesture was obviously lost on the other end. "That would be correct. Except this time, it's her that's giving us the scare".

"AJ, what's going on?"

AJ scrubbed a hand over his face. "I've got a medical situation on my hands, and that's all I can say, Tobias. As is stands, I'm breaking a promise just by calling you. I need to get said Naval Commander to said Marine Colonel. The sooner, the better".

The CAG flipped thru the pages of scheduling clipped to his board. To say the schedule was tight was an overwhelming understatement, not to mention it would take quite a bit of maneuvering to get Rabb back in the saddle to finish his second set, and he said as much. "AJ, you're really putting me in a bind. I'm damn sure getting a lot more scrutiny over my quals process because of him. If the SECNAV finds out I allowed him to defer, there will be hell to pay". He pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. "This had damn well be important".

AJ heard muffled voices and movement beyond the privacy curtain, and he surmised the nurses were nearly finished. He needed to hurry and end the call, but not before securing what he had requested. "How long have we known each other?"

"Longer than I care to count, you ol' beached SEAL".

Despite the heaviness of the current situation, AJ couldn't keep from chuckling at Tobias' good-natured jab. "Then you know this 'ol' SEAL' well enough to realize I wouldn't ask if it wasn't more important than the epaulets on your shoulders".

Tobias thumped the clipboard against his lap as he considered his position. Undoubtedly, Rabb had more lives than a cat. And more than one person willing to stretch out their neck for him. "I can get him on the 1500 helo to port. That's the best I can do. Take it or leave it".

"I'll take it"

"Consider it done". He blacked out Harm's name on the scheduling list, then tossed it onto the vacant seat beside him. His good deed was done for the day. "You owe me, AJ".

The elder officer breathed a sigh of relief. "I'm sure I do. And I intend to pay".

"With interest". Tobias didn't miss a beat. "And I always collect what's owed to me".

AJ rolled his eyes, then shook his head. "Yes, of course. I couldn't imagine you doing business any other way." The door behind him opened fully, and two nurses stepped just outside the hallway. "Oh, and Tobias, leave the details to me. I'll deal with the fallout when he gets here".

"Suits me. He's all yours once he steps foot off my carrier".

"Thanks. I'll be in touch". He slid the phone back in his pocket and turned his attention to the nurse who had just exited Mac's room.

"She's settled now, but she'll be out of it for several hours". She gestured towards the bed. "I'll be doing my rounds periodically to check on her. Let me know if you need anything".

He closed the door behind him and sighed. There was something claustrophobic about hospital walls. In the hours spent after her return from surgery, he'd gone from feeling completely certain of the outcome, to wondering if it hadn't been more than either of them estimated.

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1430 MT

Still in the Atlantic Ocean

Still on the USS Seahawk

When he pushed open the door to the briefing room and saw the greenie board, a grin of satisfaction crossed his face: his name was in the leading column. Despite having experienced two catastrophic crashes, the last of which almost killed him, and his age making him the oldest pilot onboard, he still managed to score far ahead of his fellow pilots.

He still had it.

"Hammer! Hey hey! You're in the lead after you nailed your first set! Looks like that dunk in the ocean didn't mark you up for good, after all!" Lieutenant Sean "Fast Pass" Passeur gave Harm a congratulatory thump on the back as the rest of the pilots surveyed their respective rankings. "Good job out there!"

"Thanks, man. It will take a lot more than a dunk in the ocean to keep me off that board," he grinned, jerking his thumb at the board before taking a seat. His next set was scheduled that same evening, and he couldn't wait. His fingers itched uncontrollably to feel the sweet vibration of jet engines beneath his touch once more.

"I guess that Geritol ® you took this morning was the clencher, eh?" ribbed Lieutenant Louie 'Big Loo' Thompson. He was new to the squadron and while he'd heard his elder colleague was a formidable opponent, he hadn't truly been convinced of it until he had seen the rankings and flight performance for himself.

He was about to respond with a jab of his own when an overhead page interrupted the friendly squabbling.

'_Commander Rabb, report to the Captain's bridge immediately'_

A round of teasing and laughter erupted from his fellow pilots. "Uh oh! Sounds like ol' man Rabb might be getting sent to the glue factory!"

Harm vacated his seat, unable to keep from smiling at the juvenile teasing. "Real original, guys. I'm out" He pointed a long finger Passeur. "Try and conduct yourself with some civility and keep these kids in line, okay?"

"Or what? Grandpa Rabb is gonna run us over in his geri-chair?" 'Fast Pass' teased, ducking as Harm affably tossed a pen in his direction. He slammed the bulkhead door shut behind him as another round of teasing erupted. Despite the comradery he'd just left, an unsettling feeling began to develop in his stomach. He thought it may be related to his quals performance, but it didn't make sense. He'd blazed through his first set, receiving exceptional remarks from the flight officer as well as recommendations for accelerated sets. Had something happened back at JAG?

At the captain's bridge, he came to attention, announcing his presence on deck.

"Commander Rabb reporting as ordered, sir".

"Good afternoon, Commander, at ease," Tobias waved his military protocol away as he crossed the threshold into the bridge. "I was just reading over the flight officer's report on your first set. He gave you exceptional markings. In fact, you have the highest markings of any pilot on board". He removed his reading glasses and tucked them into his uniform shirt pocket. "That's quite the accomplishment, Rabb. Not many pilots can nail that, especially considering your recent, err, history".

Harm inwardly grimaced at the CAG's last comment but kept his face neutral. "Thank you, sir".

Tobias was quiet as he flipped through the pages of his flight report and schedule. He wasn't lying to AJ when he'd told him it would be a tight affair to get him back in the air. But he'd made a promise, and he was a man of his word. Besides, perhaps Rabb's performance in the air and abbreviated quals would motivate some of his younger pilots to work harder to even the scores. "If I'm not mistaken, your second set has been ordered for 1800 this evening".

"Yes sir," Harm confirmed, "that is correct".

Tobias paused for a moment as he wrote down a few notes. It would be at least another three weeks before an opening came available for a reschedule. "Consider those orders cancelled. At the request of Admiral Chegwidden, you have been given new orders to return to JAG HQ immediately. You are scheduled for a helo out at 1500".

Confusion furrowed Harm's brow.

_What? In the middle of my quals?_

He'd given AJ plenty of advance notice to avoid an undue shortage at HQ!

"Sir," he shook his head, "with all due respect, I don't understand. I-"

"Go pack your bags, Commander," Tobias waved him off. "You have exactly thirty minutes before departure. No time to spare. I will be in touch with Admiral Chegwidden to reschedule your quals at a later date." He ended the conversation with a sharp salute of dismissal. "Dismissed!"

Thoroughly confused but having received his orders, Harm had no choice but to accept them. He gave a crisp salute in return, then exited the bridge, a thousand questions, and not without a slight bit of irritation swirling in his mind.

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1500 MT

Still in the Atlantic Ocean

Not on the USS Seahawk anymore

As the CH-46 lifted away from the carrier, Harm gave one lingering gaze towards the place that was like a second home. With no further explanation from the CAG, he'd been given orders to return home, leaving his quals unfinished and a thousand questions swirling in his head. Despite the abrupt termination, he couldn't help the fluttering in his heart at the thought of seeing her. They'd been partners for six years, yet, each time their jobs took them away from each other, it felt like a lifetime before they were together again. A wave of sorrow settled over his heart like a cloak, the way it always did when he thought of her. There was an affection that went far deeper than a partnership. He'd been devastated when she'd accepted Mic's ring, his entire heart had gone into mourning, but he'd only had himself to blame for the massive clusterfuck. He hadn't had the balls to step up to the plate and _tell her_ how he felt. He'd hid behind the roadblocks that were their jobs, their assignments. The day he saw the ring on her hand, a part of his heart died. In retrospect, he finally understood what Mac had been getting at, and why she'd accepted Mic's ring. But by the time he'd realized it, it was too late.

His return to JAG seemed to be a turning point in their relationship. Undoubtedly, seeing his life on the line had woken him to the realization that chances rarely come around again and again. He wanted nothing more than to come home to her. And not just at the office. He wasn't quite sure what their relationship was, more than friends, for sure, but not lovers.

And that was the part that made him hurt so much.

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1530 Zulu

Room 231

Bethesda Medical Center

'_Do you find yourself short just days before your next paycheck? We've all been there! That unexpected car repair bill, an emergency room visit, the refrigerator going out. All these inconveniences can leave you short on cash. But Check Mate! is here for you! Yes, indeed, we've got the cash you need! Call the number at the bottom of your screen now and let Check Mate! be your number one choice for cash advances!' _

The commercial break alerted AJ to the changing of television programs, signaling the transition to daytime soap operas. He quickly silenced the intrusive squawking with a press of the 'mute' button on the worn remote. He hated commercials with a passion; the check advances and title loans even more. Any company that preyed on the desperate and vulnerable were less than bottom feeders, in AJ's eyes.

Stretching his legs, he turned his attention to the sleeping form in the hospital bed adjacent him. Once they had administered the pain medication, she'd settled down significantly, drifting back to the land of darkness.

Maybe he'd been too hasty in his decision to pull Harm back home. She seemed fine now, resting peacefully, her hands having unclenched from their fisted positions.

"Forgive me, Mac, but I called Harm back home. I thought you were in trouble, and I broke your trust. I'm sorry." He whispered, reaching over to pat her hand.

He half-expected her to sit up in bed, give him her signature, 'I'm a Marine, sir, I can take care of myself,' speech. But the only response he got was the quiet beeping of the machines, and the occasional intercom page that filtered into the room from the hallway.

Rubbing his tired eyes, he adjusted his glasses and decided to try and finish his crime novel. The temperature in the room was comfortable, the sun filtering thru the half-closed blinds. The quiet beeping of the machines and the occasional intercom page filtered into the room from the hallway. And as he read over the second chapter (again!), his head began to loll back against the hardened, faux leather recliner. The book slipped from his hands.

And soon, Mac wasn't the only one fast asleep in that room.

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1600 MT

Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

Boeing CH-46

"Gentleman, we're approaching a large storm cell, it's about twenty miles wide. There will be extreme turbulence with possible lightening. We don't have enough fuel to circumvent it. Make sure you're wearing your ALSE and remain harnessed in. We'll be in it in about fifteen minutes".

Riff pulled a face. "Never a dull moment flying in one of these fuckit buckets".

Harm couldn't help but agree. He squashed down the memories of his most recent encounter with a thunderstorm in mid-flight. He pulled out the photograph of the two of them in Afghanistan. It was a reminder of why he had to get home.

"Someone special, huh?" he asked, pointing at the photograph clutched in his hand. His seat mate, Lieutenant Jackson "Riff Raft" Riff, couldn't have been more than 30, with his youthful face and enthusiasm for whatever each day had the audacity to bring.

Harm could only nod as the cursed feeling of wistfulness seeped into his heart. Standing beside him in the photo was his deepest desire and longing. He swallowed thickly, wishing with all of his might that the helicopter could fly faster than what it was.

"How long have you been together?" He blushed the moment the words left his mouth. "I'm sorry sir, I shouldn't have asked that".

Harm waved him off. "No worries, Lieutenant". He sighed heavily. "But to answer your question, we're um…" he trailed off, feeling the lump begin to form in his throat. "No, we're not". At the Lieutenant's confused expression, he elaborated. "We work under the same chain of command".

Riff nodded in understanding. "Does she at least know how you feel?".

No, she didn't know.

How could she? He'd basically rejected her at Sydney, then spoke in cryptic messages at her engagement party. To make matters worse, when Brumby had turned his back on her at the airport, she'd sought refuge and comfort in the only arms she'd trusted.

And he'd turned her back on her, too. Not intentionally of course. Never. But Renee had just received news of her father's passing, and he was bound by his cursed sense of honor and obligation to be there for her, if only in the physical. But he hadn't explained that to Mac. Instead, he'd pawned her off and shut the door in her face, leaving her on her own once more. He'd abandoned her, just like Mic had. Just like her mother had. No wonder the woman had fled town to take on a menial investigation aboard the _USS Guadalcanal_!

And when he'd had the nerve to corner her to question her as to why she'd asked for a TDY assignment, she'd posed a question in return. What was he willing to give up to have her? She pointed out that Mic was willingly to give up his job and his home to be with her, yet Harm couldn't even answer one simple question. As per his typical cowardness, he'd talked in circles, expecting her to get frustrated enough that she'd give up on harassing him for a definitive answer.

What he didn't expect was her giving up on him. Them.

As much as he resented Mic, Harm had to accept the painful fact that he had only himself to blame for nearly losing the woman he loved, cherished more than life itself. Mic had had the balls to step up and go after what he wanted. He had the balls to make it clear he _wanted_ Mac.

And Harm didn't.

While Mic had stepped up to the plate, Harm had been the ultimate coward, hiding behind his false sense of duty and propriety, when all he wanted to do was crush her against him and spend every night and waking morning making love with her.

"I….I thought, maybe at one time, she did. Now," he signed, "I'm not so sure".

The younger man shook his head. "Tell her, sir. You've got time now, but you may not always have that luxury". He pulled a photo out of his own pocket, and reached across the expanse of steel flooring beneath them to show it to him. The woman in the photo had a luminous smile, undoubtedly beautiful, but there was sense of sadness hiding just beneath the surface.

"That was Cassandra. My girlfriend. Leukemia stole her from me six months ago. I got two years with her. I could have had more, but I wasted it by screwing around. Thought I had plenty of time. Thought there were better things to do out there than get married". He roughly cleared his throat. "Before I knew it, she was sick, we got the diagnosis, and…well. It was over before we ever got a chance".

Harm gave the picture one last look before handing it back to him with an apologetic smile. "She was a beautiful lady. I'm really sorry you lost her, Riff".

Riff pointed at Harm's picture of Mac. "Make sure you don't lose her, too, sir".

Harm's mind went back to the deserts of Afghanistan, where she'd risked his life for his. He'd stood on the ammo box, his heart jumping into his throat when she made the offer to keep her weight on the box so he could jump to safety.

He still remembered, with vivid clarity, reaching out to grab her shoulder…the solid feel of her shoulder beneath his fingertips. He remembered, with vivid clarity, how his fingers traveled up to cup the side of her face, brushed the scratch on her cheek, brushed the bruise forming at the edge of her bottom lip. He remembered, with vivid clarity, the way her breathed hitched in her chest, the way her eyes went wide and round as her mind registered his movements. He remembered the softness of her hand when she reached up to cover his hand with her own.

"_Not this time, ninjagirl_," he'd told her, gently shoving her away to seek shelter behind the now defunct jeep. He would always remember the loss of warmth of her hand when she withdrew it and took a step backwards, her eyes never leaving his.

She hadn't said a word. Didn't have to. She understood.

Harm sighed and returned the photo to his flight suit pocket. Mac, he'd come to realize later, truly loved him. Understanding, protective, yielding to his demands, supportive of his dreams, all things that others, including Renee, couldn't understand.

'_What are you willing to give up to have me'_.

He shivered when he thought about the question she'd posed. It was one he'd found himself asking every single day.

Ohhhh, yes. What was he willing to give up to have her?

The answer was simple.

Everything.

His wings. His career. His heart.

He would give up everything_…everything, _for just one more chance with her.

_Just one more chance. One more opportunity. _

Considering how long it took him to realize it, The familiar sense of unease. He knew he was missing something, some piece of a puzzle that would make sense once it was put together.

At that moment, the helicopter began jerking to and fro, shaking them within their seats.

"Guys, we're entering the storm cell. Stay strapped in and hang on tight! We've got heavy lightening around us!"

Conversation fell away then, and the two settled back into their seats. Harm pressed a hand against the pocket where the photo rested, feeling an inexplicable sense of tension growing in his chest. Riff closed his eyes, securely grabbing onto his safety harness. "Here goes nothing". He cracked an eye open and flashed a half-hearted grin in Harm's direction. "Let me know when it's over, will ya?"

Harm mimicked Riff's movements, grabbing onto his own safety harness while trying to keep his mind from drifting back to the turbulent waters that had nearly claimed him the night of his crash. His love for her had carried him through, had given him a feeling of hope he'd never had before. As he closed his eyes, the aircraft began jumping violently, and Harm sent a prayer heavenward that they would get thru the storm safely.

He had to get home. He had to get back to her.

Little did he know that another storm, miles away in a hospital, was brewing.

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1430 MT

Bethesda Women's Center

Third Floor, Room 317

Bethesda, MD

The lonesome dark tugged and pulled at her. The sound of a hundred raging winds filled her head. The room grew darker, if it was even possible. She felt far away from everything. Everyone.

But she wasn't alone.

A hand emerged from the blinding darkness before her, beckoning her closer. But when she touched the black hand reaching out to her, she was violently sucked forward. Around her, wild screams and shriesof fear pierced the deafening silence. The winds fell way to a roaring sound in her head. She felt herself being lifted up, up, and up, then falling so far away.

Her body felt so heavy.

She cried out wordlessly into the dark expanse around her, desperately searching for any source of light, any way out of the suffocating darkness.

The hand had begun to move its grip past her wrist, its painful squeezing causing her arm to go numb. A sick feeling that had started up in the pit of her stomach grew in intensity. "No! Let me go!" she screamed, tugging at the hand now wrapped viciously around her entire forearm.

And then a hooded figure emerged from the darkness.

"Let me go! I want to go home!"

But the dark figure paid her no attention. Instead, it put a finger to its lips as it led her further into the pressing darkness. It delivered a message, the words not spoken, yet she understood it quite clearly.

_Your life. Give me your life. _

She clung to every tattered memory of _him, _even as they were being violently spun and torn away from her mind.

_Your life. _

The knowledge came to her through a swelling wave of anguish. She could feel her life ebbing away. It was a dear a price to pay, but…it would all be over.

_In exchange for his._

She didn't have to ask for clarification on _whose_ place she was taking.

She knew.

She knew, just as the universe knew every star in its obsidian sky, just as the trees knew every leaf resting on its branches, just as the dandelion knew every seed on its head.

She knew. And it was okay.

Darkness had won.

It was coming to take her.

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1540 MT

Bethesda Women's' Center

AJ was awakened by the blaring of machines and someone roughly shaking his shoulders.

It was one of Mac's nurses. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step out."

The screaming alarm was coming from the flashing display on the blood pressure machine, and the large, fluorescent green numbers were steadily decreasing.

"What's going on?" AJ asked, numbly scrambling to his feet, his crime novel falling to the floor.

With urgency, the nurse beckoned to the CNA who stood by the bathroom door. "Go next door and get Dr. Owens. Quick". The lady dropped her clipboard on the counter by the sink and beat a hasty retreat out of the room. "Sir, we're going to have to ask you to step out," she repeated the request, not answering his question as she began unhooking Mac's tubing and lines.

He pulled himself up to his full height, towering a good foot and a half above her. "Not until you tell me what's going on".

The nurse glanced up at him as she made quick work of disconnecting the machines. "We need to get her back to surgery. She's losing blood. More than likely there's a tear".

At that moment, Dr. Owens entered, took one look at Mac, and immediately turned to his accompanying nurse. "Page theatre and tell them we're on our way". He turned to the nurse who had finished unhooking her lines and was now disengaging the wheel locks on the bed. "We've got to go. Now".

AJ made to follow as they turned to wheel her out of the room, but the nurse placed a hand against his chest.

"Sir, you have to stay here".

"Like hell I am". His authoritative tone left no room for argument. He'd made her a promise to stay with her, and he'd be dammed if he was going to break it: well, if one didn't count the promise, he'd made about not informing Harm.

She opened her mouth to argue, but Dr. Owens interjected. "Fine. But you can't go beyond the doors". He turned his attention back to his staff and resumed pushing Mac's bed. "Let's go, folks, we're wasting precious time".

As the team pushed her gurney into the hallway, AJ held fast to Mac's hand, his long strides making it easy to keep pace. Once they reach the doors, he was allowed to go no further. And as AJ crumpled into his seat, hands shaking and heart thudding against his chest, he did something he hadn't done since Vietnam.

He began to pray.

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:: END CHAPTER FOUR::


	5. Through The Eye Of The Storm NEW!

Title: Trials and Tribulations

Chapter Five: Through the Eye Of The Storm

Author: Macattack102712, aka MacMackenzie

Disclaimer: JAG doesn't belong to me. Never has, never will.

Publish Date: August 2018

Summary: Mac faces one of the hardest journeys of her life. But will she walk it alone or will she let those around her run the marathon with her?

Authors Notes: This story takes place in S7. Everything is presented in MT (Military Time), with EST the marker. This chapter is a bit longer than the rest. I just couldn't find a suitable break point. Enjoy!

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1600 MT

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

The cool air rushed over Mac's face when she pushed open the door of the courtroom. It seemed the day went by in a flash, but strangely, she couldn't remember the details of it. One minute, she was looking over a case file; the next, the trial had been adjourned and she found herself alone in the courtroom. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt like this. She felt off. Out of sorts, really.

'_It's probably just fatigue, Mackenzie. You have been pulling late nights for the past two weeks_'.

That much was true. The workload had picked up considerably at JAG since the beginning of the month, and everyone was having to take on more cases than usual. But still…something didn't feel quite right. She felt eerily disconnected from the world, as though she were moving in slow motion.

She chalked it up to fatigue and headed back to her office.

Upon rounding the corner, she was surprised to find the bullpen void of all personnel, with only the safety lights of the corridors and the light from the breakroom illuminating the otherwise dark space. She found it rather odd, as it was still early in the evening, and she knew several staff members worked a late schedule.

"Tiner? Sturgis? You two still here?" she called out into the quiet expanse.

Aside from the fain horn from a passing motorist, and the rumble of thunder, she received nothing but silence for her answer. She ventured into the kitchen, which she found empty as well.

"Anyone still here? The lights in the kitchen were left on".

A prickling sense of _something_ nudged her

'_That's odd. The Admiral's not one to dismiss early, except for a holiday'._

And last she remembered, there wasn't a holiday for several weeks.

What day _was it_?

She shook her head as though the motion would knock the wayward cogs back into place and crossed the bullpen to her office. The darkness from within her office spilled across the threshold when she nudged open her door.

A flash of lightening briefly illuminated the small space, sending the shadows retreating to the baseboards. The rain beat in a torrential downpour against the windows overlooking the parking lot below. She flipped on the overhead light and sighed as she set her briefcase on her desk. The lonesome darkness just beyond her window beckoned her closer.

Oh yes, _that _darkness.

That lonesome, desolate darkness.

That's what she called a night like this…..when one felt disconnected from everything and everybody. Alone. And no one to care if you lived or died.

Was that how Harm had felt when he was struggling in the ocean?

She sighed once more and wrapped her arms around herself.

That desolation, that darkness, had existed for her all her life. And it moved with her, as effortlessly as time did. In the desolate darkness, it was easy to put away everything that had happened to her. Everything she'd done. Every single mistake she'd made. In some ways, it was a place for her to hide.

Her heart still smarted from the statement Harm had made as he stepped onto the elevator, completely unaware of her presence. Although harsh, his words held such an element of truth that she wasn't sure what stung the most: the accuracy of them, or the fact that _he _had said them.

But Harm was right: any man she got involved with was either dead, or if not, he felt pretty damn close.

And that was something that was never going to change.

She was the black widow. Anything she touched, died. Hell, even the aloe vera and flowering cacti plants her neighbor had given her had died. And in her last conversation with Chloe, Jingo was not long for this world, either.

Yep. That good ole' Mackenzie curse was primed and ready to pounce on its next victim.

And he'd nearly been it: Harm, her partner for over four years, the one man she loved more than life itself, had almost been taken by the curse.

'_Too bad it won't take me. That sure would solve the problem'_.

She but back the stung of tears, leaning her forehead against the cool pane of the window. Her hands mindlessly traced the errant patterns of water trailing down the divided glass.

She'd always known she'd been an unwanted product; an, 'unfortunate mistake' her father preferred to call her. She'd been privy to the numerous screaming and shouting matches between her parents, where Joe had blamed Deanna for their abysmal lot in life, for allowing herself to become pregnant when she "knew good and damned well" he didn't want a kid. Mac had lost the number of times Joe had accused her of purposefully getting pregnant.

And after Deanna had left on the eve of Mac's fifteenth birthday, Joe had told her it was a shame she didn't take her with her.

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::FLASHBACK::

Mackenzie Residence

1420 Roper Street

Yuma, Arizona

August 1982

A flash of anger marred Sarah's youthful face as she ripped the, 'FINAL EVICTION NOTICE' paper taped to the front door of their tiny craftsman-style home. She entered the small kitchen, leaving the screen door to slam behind her. The eviction notice was the third one they'd received that month.

'_Better start packing my things tonight'_.

She retrieved the pitcher of grape store brand Kool-Aid ® from the fridge and poured herself a glass.

What did she expect? It was standard operating procedure, after all. Joe Mackenzie would pay rent on-time for several months, then quit. The back rent would pile up, and he'd force them to pack up and skip town in the middle of night. Not only was it a disruption to her life, the change of address almost always meant a new school for Sarah. She'd be forced to start all over again. But if Joe Mackenzie thought skipping town would cancel his obligation to pay what he owed, it was a lesson he just never seemed to learn. The MP'S always caught up with him. It was just a matter of when.

Joe's stipend from the military was supposed to go for rent. And for the most part, it did.

Until he got in over his head with out-of-control gambling. that's when the

That's when the bills began slipping.

Deanna pulled extra shifts at whatever restaurant she could find waitress work, and would always try to tuck away a few extra dollar bills here and there, hidden from the thirsty eyes of Joe. But unfortunately, it was never enough. Just when Deanna thought they were getting their heads above water, Joe would get himself in an altercation and money was needed to bail him out. No bail meant Joe couldn't report for duty the next day. And not working meant no income.

It was a catch 22.

Her mother resented the Marine Corps, mostly Joe's superiors because it operated like a 'buddy system'. They were often seen drinking alongside him as they laundered money and stepped out on their wives. But Joe turned a blind eye. In return, they covered for him or made excuses when he showed up to work hungover. Or worse: still drunk off his ass. The reality was, Joe Mackenzie was a complete disgrace to the Marine Corps uniform and should have been drummed out of the service long ago.

But her mother knew the military was, at least, a source of stable income and health care. If Joe was thrown into the civilian world, he would have never held down a job.

And then where would she be? So for Deanna, it was better the devil she knew than the one she didn't. At least with this devil, Deanna could count on a steady paycheck. Even if Joe did gamble and drink most of it away.

Sarah returned the pitcher to the top shelf of the fridge and shut the door.

As usual, the tv blared from the living room.

A baseball game, of course. It was approaching the end of the season, and the closer it got to the World Series, the more antsy Joe grew. He was an addict of all trades and master of every single one: an alcoholic, a con-artist, and a gambler, oftentimes betting money they didn't have on chances that didn't exist.

As she took a sip of the refreshing beverage, Sarah found it strange not to see her mother at the stove. If she wasn't working, Deanna spent her time in the kitchen, either fixing a meal, canning vegetables, or mending one of Joe's many uniforms. He'd often come home after a bar fight, his uniform shirt ripped, his insignia hanging by threads.

She set her glass on the counter and ventured into the living room where her father sat propped in the recliner, a pile of empty beer cans growing at his feet.

"Mom working?"

The elder Mackenzie didn't bother to look up from the ball game even as it switched to commercials. He took a long swig of beer. "Well, well, well. Look who it is. You finally decided to come home and grace me with your presence".

She ignored his comment and repeated the question.

He bit out a sarcastic laugh as he knocked back a few peanuts. "Nope. Bitch skipped town. Ain't coming back. Took the damn dog with her, too".

Sarah rolled her eyes. "Whatever. Stop lying".

"Oh I'm a liar now, am I?" He clumsily gestured at the living room. "Look around, Sarah, do you see her?" He cupped his hands around his mouth and yelled in the direction of the upstairs. "Deanna! Sarah wants to know if you're home!".

After no answer was received, he shrugged. "See there? Now you believe me?"

"Is she working or not?" The words came out in a bite.

"What part of, 'THE. BITCH. SKIPPED. TOWN. do you not understand? SHE LEFT, SARAH. She LEFT". He pointed the remote at the tv and motioned at the ballgame that had returned. "Now get out of my face and leave me the hell alone. I'm missing my damn game".

Sarah jerked the remote out of his hand and threw it across the room. It made impact with the wall, the batteries and cover flying in opposite directions. "How many times did it take, you hitting her, to make her leave, Joe! Huh!? How much did you steal from her this time!?" She shoved the wadded-up eviction notice into his chest. "Did you see this? Or were you too damn drunk to read it. We can't have anything because of YOU!" She slung the unopened beer across the room but took a step back as Joe jumped to his feet, his movements nearly upending the tv table. He grabbed the front of her shirt and yanked her to him.

"Let me get this straight: my stupid, tramp daughter blames ME for her momma leaving? _YOU_ blame _ME_ for your momma leaving? _YOU _blame _ME_ for not having nothin' nice!? For not having the money to pay the bills!? Wellllll, have I got SOMETHIN' for you!" Joe swayed a little but didn't loosen his grip as he brought her to eye level. "How about I show you what really made your momma leave". He released her then, shoving her roughly before storming over to the tv cabinet. He wrenched one of the drawers open and yanked out a piece of paper.

"Take a good look at that," he thrust the paper into her hands. "Always a day late and a dollar short, your momma".

Smoothing out the crumpled, yellowed paper, Sarah read the contents.

And with every printed word she read, the knife of deprecation drove a little deeper into her fractured heart.

Joe saw the color leach from her face, and he gave a sarcastic snort. "Yeah, that's when things went downhill for your momma and I. I gave her the money to go get it, but she fucked around and missed it". He twisted a beer from the plastic six-ring and popped the tab, taking a long swig before wiping his mouth on his shoulder. "ONE. LOUSY. DAY. And one dollar short. So if you wanna know why we can't having anything nice, well, sweetie," he pointed an unsteady finger in the direction of the small bathroom off the kitchen, "just go look in that mirror. I should have left you running down the back of your mother's legs". He grabbed his pack of cigarettes and made for the back porch, calling over his shoulder. "I just wished she'd taken you and left the damn dog. At least the mutt listened".

And as the screen door slammed behind him, Sarah looked back down at the paper still in her hands. Yellowed and full of creases, it was all the proof she needed that her parents had never wanted her at all:

'_19 February 1967_

_Pinal County Health Department_

_1803 Jefferson Street_

_Florence, Arizona_

_Dear Mrs. Mackenzie, _

_In accordance with Arizona law, the deadline for termination of a pregnancy, regardless of reason, is the twentieth week of development. Based on measurements obtained during your recent exam, you entered the twenty-second week of gestation on the date of your request. Due to the stage of fetal development, we are unable to perform your requested procedure._

_ If you are unable or unwilling to provide for your baby, we urge you to consider placing the baby for adoption. There are many loving couples in Arizona who want to adopt, and we have resources available to help you choose which agency is right for you. _

_ Sincerely, _

_PCHD'_

Upon learning of her pregnancy, Joe had scraped together enough money to secure an abortion, but Deanna had missed the deadline by one day. Whether it was missed intentionally, or because of hesitation, Mac had paid the ultimate price. Although Deanna had obviously chosen to keep her baby, in the end, she'd still abandoned her.

::END FLASHBACK::

One lousy day. One lousy moment. One lousy hour.

That's what defined her life.

One lousy moment in which they failed to use protection.

One lousy day in which Deanna missed the deadline for abortion.

One lousy hour in which Sarah Mackenzie entered this world and changed both of their lives for the worst. And as it turned out, other lives, too.

From the moment she was conceived, Mac felt she'd brought nothing but destruction and grief to any person who was unfortunate to cross paths with her.

So many times she'd cried herself to sleep when Joe and Deanna would fight over her, asking how one person could be so unlovable, so unwanted. So many times she'd cried out to whatever force ruled the universe, asking why she survived Bosnia and Kuwait when so many of her brothers and sisters in arms did not. So many times she'd given her heart and body to men who didn't respect her, asking how she could mold herself to be what they wanted.

So many times she wondered what Harm really thought when he looked at her. And she was given her answer on that fateful day in the elevator.

'_God, somedays I just wish you'd just take me on home. Wherever 'home' is. I don't want to hurt anymore people'. _

Another flash of lightening lit up the turbulent night sky. There were days she wished she could just be swallowed up and disappear, like the torrents of rain rushing down the metal downspouts.

And that's when she felt it.

An inexplicable tug towards something so familiar that she felt it in her solar plexus.

It was the sense she knew all too well.

She was not alone.

_Someone_…was watching her.

Pulling herself together, she turned away from the window and looked over her shoulder.

Coming thru the bullpen, dressed in a flight suit, was a devastatingly handsome figure. Tall and stoic, with eyes that rivaled the piercing blue of the ocean, his steps were nothing short of purposeful and certain.

A relieved grin tugged at her lips.

It was the very object of her thoughts, as though he'd been plucked right out of her mind.

His dress whites, while she claimed they were overrated, _were_ a sight to behold. But it was his flight suit that always made her breathing hiccup.

He was almost to her, and yet she remained silent, her lips frozen in a half-smirk, the result of a playful, sarcastic quip not given the opportunity to escape. But as she opened her mouth to greet him, a sudden thought caused her to stop short. Her brow furrowed.

'_What is Harm doing back so early? I thought his quals weren't over for another two days?'_.

She mentally checked her internal clock for the date, and for the first time she could ever remember, she drew a blank.

Nothing.

It was as though the dark void beyond the window had permeated the glass and crawled inside her head.

And as he came within reach, she noticed the lines in his face were a little more pronounced; a little deeper. His eyes, a darker blue than she recalled, spoke a language of unspeakable trauma. Traces of grey peeked over the edges of his ears. And he sported a mustache.

It was Harm. But not the Harm she remembered.

'_Since when did Harm grow a mustache?' _

Over the past several weeks, they'd been like ships passing in the night. Their respective caseloads had sent them in opposite directions. While one would be in the office, the other would be out in the field. And vice versa.

But surely, in the midst of their comings-and-goings, she would have noticed the change in his physical appearance? She did just bid him well-wishes before he left for his quals earlier that week…..

Obviously, she hadn't been paying as close attention as she thought.

He stepped closer and smiled that infamous flyboy smile.

But there was something inherently different about him. He seemed…..

Older.

More mature.

"Ahh, there you are, Sarah. I've been looking for you".

The last time he'd used her given name, was on that blasted Sydney Harbor, where everything went to shit in a basket. She'd bared her heart, had basically propositioned him, and he'd run away, into that blasted darkness. The fallout from his rejection had caused her to make a decision that nearly cost her the only man who'd ever truly held her heart.

A sense of deja'vu slammed into her, like a rip in the time-space continuum, where two separate moments converge to become one. He was right in front of her now, and it was then that she noticed the insignia on his shoulder. Her mouth went dry. Alarm bells begin to ring in the back of her head.

Her gaze narrowed. There was _something _about _him._ She could see it now, so plainly, in his eyes. The jumbled pieces began to fall into place.

"Harm….?"

He gently touched her elbow as he flashed his infamous smile once more.

"Not quite."

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1700 MT

Somewhere over the Atlantic

CH-46 Knighthawk

"_Naval Air Station Control, Sierra Papa One Five One airborne at 3500 feet. Request southeast approach. Low on fuel. Negative for go-arounds. Extreme turbulence". _

"_Roger, One Five One. Descend and maintain 2500 feet. Take heading three two seven. Squawk three five six five and ident". _

The shaking of the rotary aircraft threatened to bounce Harm's brain right out of his skull. Even as experienced a fighter pilot as he was, he couldn't quite tamp down the uneasiness that bubbled in his stomach. A streak of blinding light splintered the sky from the west as he listened to the radio communication being called into Air Traffic Control at NAS.

"_Roger. Passing two hundred for three point five. Squawking." _

"_Radar contact. You're cleared for southeast approach at 1700. Get that bird on the ground"._

Another streak of brilliant lightening, and the thunderous clap that immediately followed was heard, even over the roaring _whap!-whap!-whap!_ of the fiberglass blades spinning wildly just feet above him. Harm listened to the powerful turbine spin the rotor blades at the speed of a hummingbird's wings. He grinned to himself as a thought about the absolute freedom he would feel in command of such a steely beast, tearing up the air with its relentless blades. An F-14, undeniably, was a thrill like no other, a thrill to handle in a class all of its own. But to hold the flash-bang maneuverability and precision landing of a rotary wing aircraft in his hands was something he certainly longed for.

Harm's attention shifted to the cockpit.

Neither of the pilots, nor door gunner, were joking over the intercom, as the crew sometimes did during flight in an attempt to keep the crew relaxed. All eyes stared out into the gray abyss that pressed them into the shroud of blackness that was the surrounding storm.

He calculated they were about ten minutes from making ground contact. He watched the helo commander manipulate the controls of the Knighthawk. He watched as the copilot talked to the Alpha Charlie over their helmet radios. He couldn't hear what they were saying; they had now switched communication to just between each other. But the recommendation from ATC had been clear as day: get on the ground, and quickly_._

Denser air and turbulent winds burned fuel at a quicker rate. And the Knighawk, having picked the two of them up following a mid-air refueling activity for another squadron, was cutting it close on fuel. They didn't have enough fuel to afford delayed landings.

Another streak of lighting erupted nearby, and a jolt followed as the expansion of thermal heat rocked the helo.

He swallowed the accumulating saliva, a beginning sign of motion sickness. He couldn't help but think of Mac, and the physical sense of what she endured during turbulent weather at sea. Although his pilot experience had long-ago forged a stomach of steel, he was forced to acknowledge the turning tides in his gut.

He glanced over at Riff, whose pallor had turned an unflattering shade of yellow. The young Lieutenant had loosened his harness slightly to afford some movement. He was leaned over, his head tucked between his knees.

Another brilliant flash of lighting exploded all around them, and Harm was taken back to a memory from what seemed like a lifetime ago, before things got so bad between them.

A case had taken them back to Mac's stomping grounds of Red Rock Mesa. To her, Arizona was her home, where the amber cliffs that surrounded the parched desert land beckoned to her. To Harm, it was a patch of ugly, dusty sand, where the Earth seemed to scream mercilessly for water.

But Arizona was more than a place holder of memories. It was where their friendship had been forged in steel, where Harm put his life, and his career, on the line for two people he'd only just met. He didn't know a thing about her uncle, Colonel Matthew O'Hara, yet he was willing to risk it all to help them. And it wasn't just a point where Harm had proven his integrity and commitment to justice. It was where Mac's trust in Harm had been solidified in her heart, where she'd bared her alcoholism and snippets of her life to a man she barely knew.

But he was different.

Their relationship was different.

He'd felt it the moment he'd locked eyes and hands with her in the White House Rose Garden, all those years ago.

It was different. He couldn't explain it. Couldn't put his finger on it.

_IT. JUST. WAS_.

And upon their return, three years later, to the parched desert land, it was _still_ different.

They had watched the sunset from a hiking trail nestled in the foothills of the Camelback Mountains. She drove the two of them all over the desert, stopping at little hole-in-the-wall places Harm could never have found on his own: a lively cantina with a Mexican band; a biker bar with surprisingly good karaoke; a dance club so small that only ten people could press onto the floor at once. It seemed that wherever they ventured, she bumped into someone she knew. It quickly became obvious his partner was equally at home with a wide spectrum of people, with people who came from all walks of life. But he wasn't surprised. Mac was so accepting of those who were different, so loving and genuine. And he craved these little glimpses into her life. Like the flash of a camera in the darkness, these snapshots fed him tidbits to unravel who Sarah Mackenzie really was.

And yet, despite all the snapshots he'd accumulated over the years, she remained a complete enigma to him.

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_::FLASHBACK::_

_0800 MT_

_Julie's Diner_

_Highway 95_

_Fifteen miles southwest of Yuma Proving Grounds (aircraft testing range)_

"So…what do you think so far?" Mac asked, squeezing into a torn pleather booth at the quaint, but greasy diner she'd recalled as a favorite haunt from her youth. They'd only just completed their investigation and were waiting for the Admiral to give them permission to close the case and return home.

The waitress handed them each a menu, then scurried off to procure water and coffee.

He looked around the hole-in-the-wall establishment, then gave a non-committal shrug. "I would be lying if I said I was having a terrible time. But I'm sucking fumes, so don't tell me there's more".

She pushed her hair behind her ears, and not for the first time did he think she had the most adorable ears of any woman he knew. She turned her eyes to the menu in her hand, but not before Harm could catch the flicker of amusement in her eyes. "What, Mr. Hotshot-Fighter-Jock can't keep up with this lowly Marine?"

He groaned as he flipped the menu over to the breakfast side. "Maaaac! We've been going nonstop since we got here!. Besides", he supplied, "if the Admiral gets what he wants, we'll be heading back home in the morning".

A frown crossed her face, and her brow furrowed in dismay. "Well, damn. I was hoping we'd have more time".

Harm couldn't help the incredulous laugh that escaped. "Geez Mac! Don't tell me there's more you want to do!?"

She nodded, thanking the waitress when she delivered a steaming cup of coffee to each of them. "You forget we're in _my _stomping grounds. This place is practically bursting at the seams with fun! Admit it, flyboy: you've enjoyed it". She grinned over the rim of her cup. "Besides, how often is it that we get out of HQ to come to a place like this?"

While he hated to admit it, she made an accurate assessment. Most of their assignments kept them close to the office, and the opportunity to thaw out in Arizona was a welcomed reprieve from the relentless rain and cold that held Falls Church in a vice grip for months on end.

"Well, since you love it here, just wait 'til I take you to La Jolla". At her raised eyebrow, he mistook her confusion for lack of clarification on location. He elaborated, "California".

Puzzled, she absentmindedly chewed the end of her stir stick. "What's out in La Jolla?"

"Mom and Frank." He grabbed a creamer from the basket and dumped it in the steaming liquid. "They've been hot on my six, asking me when I plan on taking you out there to meet them".

An element of surprise crept into her voice. "You…you want me to meet your parents?"

"Well of course". He gave her a curious look. "Why wouldn't I?"

She shifted nervously in her booth. A strange countenance took over her before it quickly evaporated in a flash. "Oh, no reason" She waved it away as though it were a pesky gnat.

Harm found himself studying her carefully, trying to interpret the sudden shift in her facial expressions, and the flicker of something unknown within the dark chocolate wells of her eyes.

Just as he made to pry further into the cause of her reaction, the waitress approached their table to take the order, and the opportunity was lost. He bit back the fuzz of irritation at the interrupted moment.

It wouldn't be the last time that poor timing would turn the tables against him.

But Harmon Rabb, Jr, the Master of Missed Chances, wouldn't realize it until it was too late.

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Later that evening, they were invited to a cook-out at the home of one of her long-time friends, a Native American veteran whose tribal name was as illustrious as the hair that spilled down his back in a licorice waterfall. Squalling Breeze's (as he was named) ranch was located on an unofficial encampment of fellow tribesmen and military veterans. The cluster of occupied properties sat just west of the Camelback Ridge. And when the crunching of gravel beneath the tires of their government issue vehicle announced their arrival, the pair was welcomed with open arms before their car doors could even close.

They were gaily ushered to the backyard where a large bonfire lit up the night sky and the flaming shadows dance a mesmerizing tango with the boulders scattered about. A group of musicians sat adjacent to the fire, their haunting guitars, flutes, and drums sounding out the very heartbeat of the land that breathed beneath their feet. There was chanting and dancing, and magnificent storytelling where long-hidden tales were drawn from the very cliffs that towered behind them.

"So, you've got Arabian, a_nd_ Native American blood?" Harm asked incredulously as they settled on a hewed Colorado Fir. He balanced a plate of grilled vegetable and homemade bread, while Mac clutched a steaming cup of jack-rabbit stew. She had taken him around the group, introducing him to everyone while explaining her connection to each person. Although her Arabian roots were common knowledge, he'd been completely unaware of her Native American side. Her heritage was something of a mystery. Hell, _she_ was a mystery!

Mac laughed around a mouthful of the hearty stew. "I'm a little bit of everything, I suppose".

And that was the truth. A mixed breed, as she jokingly referred to herself. Her maternal grandmother had taught her Farsi and the ways of the Arabic culture, while her paternal grandmother had left her to figure out her Native American roots. Thus, the friendships and bonds she'd formed with Squalling Breeze and her other relatives.

The group started a new tune, and talking fell by the wayside. She laughingly pulled him to his feet, where they joined the group in a special form of tribal dance. His feet stumbled a bit as he worked to copy her complicated shuffling dance steps that the drums beat out.

His arms came up to catch her as his awkward foot stepped on her more fluid one and caused her to get off-balance. She fell against his chest, laughing at their mutual clumsiness. Her brunette hair shone in the dancing firelight, her face alight with so much joy that he couldn't have thought her more beautiful than in that moment. The firelight flickered in her amber eyes. He wanted to keep her in his arms, where all was right in his world. And it was then that he realized he'd never encountered a more magical moment with her.

He wanted to kiss her.

Her eyes flashed wide at the realization of what simmered between them, her lips separating to form a slightly crooked '_O'_. He could see the permission in her eyes. There was no need for words. Hell, they could communicate more with their eyes than their mouths. The moment was there, for the seizing. All he had to do was reach out and grab it. Just take a step and kiss her.

_Just one step. _

It was so simple. Straightforward. Lean down and capture her lips with his own. Not too fast, not too slow, much like flaring his F-14 before making contact with the runway.

_Just one step. _

'_Float and Flare, Rabb' _his conscience had told him.

But his damn courage failed him. And like a panicked pilot in the seat, he pushed the throttle all the way in and aborted the mission.

While it carried him into the clouds, far above carrier and ocean, his courage _failed him_ when it came to _her._

He'd been given a chance with her. And he'd backed away.

The hurt flashed in her eyes as the moment disappeared like embers into the night sky. She turned away, stuffing down her hurt, but he knew he'd never be able to put out of his mind. It was seared in his chest, burning as hot as the charred coals in the campfire.

He wanted another chance. Another chance to make it right with her.

But as he went to stop her retreat, the small group of musicians announced they were taking a break. And then the moment was over, another one lost to his fears.

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A few months later, he'd been given one more chance, beneath the Southern Cross of Sydney Harbor.

And he'd let it slip away. Again. His fear of vulnerability, of exposing his heart, paralyzed him. The hurt flashed again in her eyes, but there was something more, hidden beneath the realization that he was, "just this way with her".

He wanted to recover the moment, to reach out and yank it back.

If only he'd realized the stakes were so much higher that time; higher than they'd ever been.

But it was too late, because another sailor stepped into her life, dark hair slicked back, accent thick, his smile offering everything Harm won't. And then there are no more chances with her.

Because the slick-haired sailor takes her hand in promise, and Harm found himself at their engagement party, trying to pretend as though his very heart wasn't ripped out of his chest.

Oh, that blasted party. That day of nothing but an eternal void of damnation.

But oh, that wonderful kiss.

That wonderful kiss stolen on the porch of the Admiral's home. A kiss and memories of that heated moment irreversibly imprinted in his heart.

He'd loved that dress, but the memories it carried was like a double-edged sword. On one hand, he would always remember that it was worn for the occasion of her engagement to a man that didn't love her, _couldn't love _her the way he did. On the other, he would always remember that dress allowed him to feel more of her than he could have ever imagined.

That moment, stolen beneath the sky, was like heaven. The feel of her satin, warm skin beneath his hands as they roamed the length of her exposed back. The feel of her mouth, so pliable, as he chased her lips when she attempted to back away, only for him to capture her lips and crush her against his length. The feel of her ample breasts pressed against his chest. The soft moan from deep within her that nearly sent him over the edge, nearly caused him to back her up against the porch railing and have his way with her _right then and there_. It would have been so easy. She was in a dress. It was dark. He was hungry for _her. _And they were alone.

He could feel the heat and the hunger, simmering dangerously between them. She was willing to go _there_ with him.

But then, that cursed sense of honor and respect won over, and this time, it wasn't a knee-jerk reaction. Tied to the ugly reminder that she wasn't his, Harm was forced to back away from everything he wanted.

And so he hadn't stopped her when she allowed the kiss to end. He wanted so desperately to keep her in his arms, but she'd been spoken for, and he wouldn't interfere. So he did the thing he always did best. The one thing he never failed at.

He backed away.

She turned from him, but not before he saw the hurt and rejection in the drooping of her shoulders. She slipped his dress coat from her shoulders and returned it to him, their fingers stroking the smoldering fire. Had she not chosen that moment to speak, Harm couldn't be so sure he wouldn't have hauled her away to the car. But fate worked against him once more, and her parting words, he decided, would haunt him for the rest of his life. She choked back what sounded suspiciously like a sob, but her voice had been impressively steady when she spoke.

"_We're getting too good at saying goodbye"._

Her parting words buried a piece of that pain in his chest. Harm couldn't let her go. No. Not like this. Her given name was nothing more than a whisper. But before he could get the two syllables past his lips, she had slipped back inside, back to the leering, raven-haired vulture that was his nemesis. And he knew then, beyond the shadow of a doubt, he'd lost.

He'd lost everything dear to him.

She was getting married. She was leaving _him. _

And he had a terrible feeling that that night had been the final skirmish in what was the war with their hearts.

And he didn't know what he was, other than the biggest damn fool on the face of the Earth.

_::END FLASHBACK::_

Harm drew in a deep breath and made a promise to himself that those nights of foolishness were the very last he'd ever have. He couldn't afford any more.

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1600 MT

Bethesda Hospital

Bethesda, MD

Third Floor Waiting Room

AJ rubbed a frustrated hand over his bald head as he checked his watch. Based on Ingle's departure information, Rabb should be landing soon. And it couldn't happen fast enough.

He put up a brave front to the nursing staff, and to Mac, but the truth was, AJ was nervous as hell. If it wasn't for his years of ingrained mindfulness, he surmised, he would have worn a hole in the tiled hallway…or at the very least, the soles of his shoes. Instead, he asked the powers-that-be for some peace, for some small measure of assurance that she was going to be okay.

Before they had whisked Mac away for a second surgery, AJ had questioned himself on whether he'd done the right thing on revoking Harm's carrier orders. But knowing Mac's feelings for him, and having a pretty damn good indication of his in return, well, he'd never become confident of anything in such a short period of time.

During his time in the tangled mess that was Vietnam, he'd been witness to unspeakable trauma. If AJ didn't lose a brother in the jungle, he was later lost to the vices of suicide and alcoholism; vices that tried to drown the demons of PTSD. For awhile, it was hard for AJ to look at himself in the mirror. He had to face all the terrible things he'd seen. And done. But as time passed, he came to terms with the losses he'd experienced. Bit by bit, looking at himself in the mirror every day no longer felt as though he was ripping his very soul out.

But with Mac in theatre, it was an unpleasant, familiar reminder of just how precious life was.

He checked his watch again, his eyes impatiently following the ticking hand as it circled the numbered face. He gave the hallway a frown. He could be patient about a lot of things, but not this.

Not when her life was in the balance.

And invariably, Harm's too.

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1800 MT

JAG HQ

Falls Church, VA

Tiner drummed his fingers against the desk as he anxiously awaited confirmation from NAS that Commander Rabb's helo had arrived. To say he was dreading being put in the crosshairs was an understatement.

The Admiral had kept him appraised of the Colonel's status, but Tiner couldn't help but worry. It had been over an hour since AJ had called to tell him she was taken back for emergency surgery.

Over the years, he'd come to regard the Colonel as the big sister he never had. He'd learned so much from her in a short period of time; he would never be able to repay his gratitude at all she had taught him during their mentorship. He'd been privy to the letter she'd written to her alma mater on his behalf, and it was all the young man could do to keep his composure whilst reading it. He knew he was a good yeoman to the Admiral and helped Lieutenant Sims keep headquarters running efficiently, but he'd been clueless to the fact his senior officers held him in such high esteem.

Then, there was Commander Rabb. The big brother he'd always wanted. Tiner had witnessed the Commander's relentless pursuit for the truth regarding his POW father. While he'd been fortunate to grow up in a stable home with both parents present, he could only imagine how difficult it must have been for the Commander to grow up without knowing what really happened to his father.

Over the years, he'd come to realize there was more between Commander Rabb and Colonel Mackenzie. More than just a partnership. More than just a friendship. He'd sensed it for a long time, even when the Colonel became engaged to Commander Brumby.

The man was unarguably a decent guy. Tiner certainly had no beef with him, but here was just _something_ about Commander Brumby that rubbed him the wrong way. Truth be told, he rubbed a lot of people the wrong way; some were just better at hiding it than others.

And he'd more than sensed the barely-concealed hostility between Rabb and Brumby. If Tiner was a betting person, he'd wager his paycheck that the latter had not been afraid to pursue what he wanted. And what he wanted was the Colonel. And the Colonel he did get.

At their engagement party, the Admiral had sent him with instructions to find them and request their presence in the living room. In retrospect, Tiner wondered if AJ intuitively knew where they were. And when he'd opened the front door to find them standing just a hair's breadth away from each other, he knew he'd interrupted _something. _He couldn't help but find it odd than for a woman celebrating her engagement, she spent her entire party on the porch with another man….a man that was her fiancée's unspoken rival.

The looks that flashed between them didn't go unnoticed. And Tiner certainly didn't miss the fuzz of irritation that crept into Rabb's voice when he attempted to lighten the awkward moment by commenting on the weather.

Just then, the phone rang, interrupting his thoughts. He picked it up before it could even finish the first ring.

"JAG Headquarters, Petty Officer Tiner speaking".

"Petty Officer Tiner, this is Lieutenant Davis. As requested, I'm calling in Commander Rabb's helo arrival effective at 1900".

"Affirm receipt of information. Thank you, Lieutenant".

The call was disconnected and Tiner immediately phoned AJ to relay the news.

'Well least something is going right tonight,' he thought to himself, breathing a quiet sigh of relief as the Admiral confirmed receipt of the information and instructed Tiner to leave the rest to AJ.

From what he could sense, both the Commander and the Colonel needed a healthy dose of reality, and maybe a kick in the six, to realize what everyone else already knew. But when it came to matters of the heart, things were complicated. Add in the military and all of its regulations, and one ended up with a Rubik's cube of problems to sort out.

XXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXXX

AJ confirmed receipt of the information from his yeoman, then ended the call and dialed another number. Taking a deep breath, his thumb hovered over the 'send' button. He glanced down the hallway once more. He wasn't necessarily worried about being on the receiving end of the wrath of one unhappy Commander.

No.

He was worried about the woman who'd they taken away just over an hour prior.

Without a doubt, one could not exist without the other.

He pressed the send button and waited as the phone range once. Twice. Thrice. Then, his senior officer's voice came thru. AJ blew past the initial greeting. He couldn't afford to give Harm the opportunity to ask questions. All it would do is make him drive like an F-14 out of combat, and the last thing AJ needed was to gnaw the skin off his cuticles over BOTH of them.

"Commander Rabb, I don't have time to discuss this further, but I need you at Bethesda Naval Hospital. Third floor. I'll see you in," he checked his watch, "approximately one hour. And unless your tank's sucking fumes, DON'T take any detours".

There was a pause, and a stuttering affirmation from his confused officer.

True to his word, AJ ended the call without further explanation and shoved the phone back in his pocket.

He sighed and shifted his weight in his chair.

"Dammit, Mac, we're gonna have a lot of explaining to do".

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:: END CHAPTER FIVE::


End file.
